Margaret Josette Dupres (A Novel)
by Daryl Wor
Summary: Maggie Evans, as the reincarnation of Josette Dupres weds Barnabas Collins. This delves into what occurs during & after "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows". I never meant to create this. The characters just took over. Includes Willie, Wadsworth, Sam & Sarah. Hard troubles, of course, but it is passionately ever after. POV changes throughout. (Yes! Reviews! Keep going!Love them all!)
1. Chapter 1: The Wedding Day

_This will start in the T-rating but is *definitely* moving on to the M-rated section. I'm testing this novel out for any required changes as I'm already looking into its publication._

_Many thanks to reviewers and especially Helena and Osheen for helping so much with this revision. Brightest and darkest blessings to all struggling in this sad and vocally neglected realm of Dark Shadows re-creations._

_And any previous guest reviewer to the older run of this story I also welcome. I do much better in temper with feedback over silence and I appreciate the courage of the smutty people greatly. I think that has more to do with love than with sex. ;)_

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_"Life after death is as improbable as sex after marriage."_ -Mrs. White (Clue 1985)

_"Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." -_Sherlock Holmes

And with these two quotes, I'd like to show that life after death, and sex after marriage, is both probable, plausible and extraordinarily beyond that… wonderful.

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Chapter One: The Wedding Day

As many of my friends and family knew, this was not a day they needed to share with us, but I wanted them to. I wouldn't request it, I wouldn't promote it as my beloved so insisted, but they were more than welcoming. I believe they knew what was happening. It's good to know that through all the ages we weren't as lost anymore, nor as shallow as many outside us have believed. We were ourselves now and able to live the days in more matter of fact realms, and more importantly in love.

Somehow the nervousness that had reached me earlier wasn't with me now. Perhaps it was because my bride hadn't entered the chapel yet. I anticipated her. I knew they'd worked a long time on recreating Josette's wedding dress and considering its sinister history, I was happy for a re-creation… such as my bride, Maggie Evans was. Long of almost auburn locks, velvet of lashes upon her brown eyes, and aquiline of face, did I know my Josette in her? Oh, didn't I? The reconstruction of a new dress, with new fabrics, from the original design of the old. How fitting it was. And how lovely in all of this design, the dress, the rings Willie had done so well to create for us, the home we were rebuilding together, nothing so marvelous as this re-creation of a human being: Josette Dupres.

In The Old House we'd gone over the paper work and our ghostly relation, in all his stark sense of irony, had chosen this new name and her father had approved. Oh… what did I know of these times I'd awoken into? I must allow those around me more providence in understanding these things, and I did. As I've said continually, repeatedly, I would do _anything_ to have her and give her… myself. I kept asking her if she was sure, if she was certain. As you know my history, the history of Barnabas Collins, many things changed and often for the worse, the dreadful, and the dead. I didn't want her to change her mind later. I didn't want to disappoint her.

She gave me that beautiful smile of old and new; A nod down, a look up at me. I marvelled at her answer, "After all we've been through, Barnabas? What if I were to disappoint you? Do you think that doesn't scare me, even a little?"

Well, if anyone knows this kind of love or anything close, you can easily imagine the length this argument went on for: "But**_ I_** am not worthy… but what of I?" And on and on… until:

"What did I have to look forward to that could ever be close to this?" she said, in her abrupt, laughing manner… the same, so the same of all three women: Maggie Evans, Kitty Soames, Josette Dupres.

"Think long and hard about that, Maggie," I requested, "I've been very forceful and very horrible and very ashamed-"

"-and adoring," she interjected, "and looking for me in so many other women," then with a clack of impatience, "does no one remember me? What _I_ want in all of this? Barnabas Collins… after all that we've been through… don't you remember me?"

A breath of assurance, "I do. You understand my caution, Jo—" I stalled at her name.

She breathed and used her tender voice, "Go ahead… don't be afraid. We all have more than one name… _mon demón_." She smiled. It was a loving tease and I would expect to be called it for years, decades and dare I say it, centuries? I supposed I ought to get used to it.

"Josette… what I want now, more than anything is … never… _never_ to harm you… never to leave you. As I've been guilty of so many times."

"And that was all of your fault, was it?" she asked suddenly.

I looked down upon her, adoring her in all her renewed glory and appeal to me, "I am to blame… Maggie… you must understand why I want to be careful. I've wanted Josette for so lon—"

"I _am_ Josette." Maggie almost shouted, quickly, sharply, "if you wanted to be cautious then stop referring to me in third person as though I'm not standing before you right here. Don't you think it hasn't been hard enough for me coming to terms with that and what I want? That I want you? That I want what was never to occur according to the fool actions around us in this place? Doesn't that matter to anyone other than Pop and I? Barnabas Collins?"

She said this as a question for me to answer.

"Yes?" I asked her in return, hopefully.

She stared hard into my eyes, "I've never been surer. And yes, I believe I deserve something easier and richer to handle… _with_ you. Do you want me to incarnate myself endlessly just to have this? I understand… none of us have been kind; none of us has sheltered each other very well… I should know. I've gotten the brunt of most of it in the end…"

I stepped toward her, taking her hands, "And never deserved it."

"And have you? I remember how hard we fought to bring me into this. And why do you think that was? Because you cared about me. You were worried I'd say no, or that I'd said no. I admit I could be childish, Barnabas. But not anymore. Trust me… I want this…" she slipped her hands up my shoulders, and coursed fingers through my hair, "And… you're making it very difficult to wait until tomorrow."

I exhaled with her and responding to her embrace with my own, fed myself with her kiss as she fed from mine. Something there created an echo of the ocean waves so much farther than either of us could usually hear and I remembered what we'd been given to make it permanent: Everlasting Life. The possibility of joy beyond centuries of time, as we'd been waiting so long for this upcoming day. Her breath pushing on my face as mine did toward her. These sounds and moist expressions of love began to create a longing and I knew what she meant. _To wait for tomorrow..._ We pulled apart and I heard myself say,

"Need we wait?"

"Yes," she said, with an ache, "but don't believe for a moment that temptation doesn't creep toward me. It's been coming on me for ages so long."

I looked upon her face, her brown eyes… her beautiful, giving expression and I wanted to combine myself with it. Her tears began and she flatted her cheek against my shoulder as I took her head in my left hand and clutched her tightly, our embrace becoming steadfast and strong. I dropped my lids, our hearts were so close in this standing warmth and we were both mournful, and desirous: fearing for happiness.

There we were, my Josette and I, standing once again in the frame of The Old House, once new that I'd been a young man in, once easier and might be again. But more with what we'd grown to achieve in all of our calamity, and this bride anew, released from her other paramours of the long and unforgotten past, we ready, willing and fresh.

"Could I ever be worthy of you?" I moaned aloud.

"You already are… but there will be troubles we need to work through," she told me, pulling away slightly and looking up. I kissed her fervently and she accepted, stroking my ear.

"What are they?" I asked, breathily.

"You know…" she tried to tell me, "you hurt me and that hurt still dwells deep inside of me and I could be forced to surprise you one night to let it resound and understand what I need to do… to release that pain… are you prepared for that?"

I answered immediately, "I'll do anything to have you, Maggie. I'll endure anything you need to bestow on me for my wrongs to you. Please know that."

"I do," she smiled gratefully, "I do… and don't worry, Barnabas Collins. I _will_ say the same thing… tomorrow… to make you mine."

…

The chapel, now repaired of its ravages through time was consecrated and blessed by a holy man of a newer sect I'd only recently been made aware of: Unitarian. Mr. Evans suggested this as a way of showing example in the multi-faceted conditions we all came through together. Ah, what many things had changed as I lie comatose over a century. Consecration and blessing was insisted on by him considering all of the unscrupulous holy men and factions wandering around Collinwood through the ages, ghostly and otherwise.

Cousin Roger, much easier going these days took a quick nodded grin at my attire, "Well it does suit you, you know, Barnabas Collins. A double line of buttons and Maggie's insistence on black velvet. All the lapels and accoutrements are quite outstanding. Now that many of our cats are out of their proverbial bags around here."

I tried not to smile but I couldn't help it, "I think you said it best, Roger. What more shame do we press upon all our wrongs by dwelling in remorse and self-pity? It's true, this only perpetuates more ills to be bred among us."

"Mnn," Roger hummed, " or what Elizabeth's Leslie questioned when it came to sources of Witchcraft. Why be so guilt-ridden and judgemental over it? Let David play with a crystal-ball, and allow ourselves a smirk at old Countess Dupres' fiddling with tarot cards. Sorcery of any kind is only bad when it slights the good in us."

"Yes," I told him gratefully.

"Looks to be a packed set of pews, old man," Roger said with a glance over my shoulder, "I can see Julia let her hair grow out again."

"That's because the good Professor prefers it that way. What a woman can choose when given the encouragement required. I pray I'm well endowed with that grace for my own bride."

"Well, Barnabas Collins" Roger said, "if you're not, I'll eat my hat."

He left me in this bemusement to sit beside his sister.

...

We stood at the front of the aisle, Willie Loomis, my groomsman, as well natured as I'd never imagined and Carolyn awaiting her duties as bridesmaid. Victoria had been the first choice but she then reflected how she'd rather be able to sit from afar and enjoy the ceremony in all its splendour. No doubt she'd take to writing all the details down with her appreciation of our family's history, and of course, if you'll permit me a wink, her own.

There was my cousin David and my sister Sarah in her ability to reach this far with the help of others. How it created a mist to my eyes to see her dropping rose petals to consecrate the aisle. The glow on my family's faces to accept her and wink at her as she nodded back with a gentle grace, the grace I'd tried to teach her but never had to, for she possessed it on her own.

So there we stood. I almost didn't hear the music playing as my bride stepped forward toward me, as I'd always wanted. And the lovely enactment of the past playing tricks on us: her father walking with her, the same father in spirit as she was the same spirit of my bride from so long ago. I could have blushed with the thoughts that came into my mind as I looked at her dress and thought of her tonight… without it.

But judge me not too harshly. My heart also belonged in the realm of faith that we were to enjoy each other company. To have conversations we'd never had but longed to, to share each other's concerns and puzzles sitting in front of the fire. To comfort each other's troubles that would hopefully be far milder than they had been across the years, but nonetheless important. This was what we wanted and I was happy, glad of heart to see Maggie Evans looking towards me as Josette Dupres and not with that empty, hypnotized stare she'd had when I was doing her harm. She looked at me with all the love and desire and her own happiness; that kind face and the autumn eyes of who she really was.

When the Minister asked, "Who gives away this bride?" her father announced, "Neither do I lose nor give away my daughter, but present her to make her own choice."

Ah, would Andre Dupres have said that so many years ago? I think he wouldn't have, which makes this union so much more wondrous than it would have been. And so she took my hand and I'm afraid I melted within the warmth of her eyes while the Minister was speaking his pronouncements of what the Heavens might bring, no doubt including sermons and conditions we'd agreed to be spoken, it was that earthy light I looked into as she stared into mine. What glories awaited us this evening when we would finally complete each other and discuss the endless possibilities of that completion?

At last young David presented us with the rings. This was a new concept to me, but a welcome one. I wondered when it changed that we both would wear rings rather than only her. But that was what I had wanted: Change. And with her a change of the centuries, and with I, a change to my agonizing life. I slipped the band on along where her engagement ring already was. Next she slipped a ring upon me, an odd sensation considering the one I'd been wearing for so long. I'd placed the onyx on my right hand today. I didn't want it to mar what I would see when she brought this new ceremony to me.

It was asked if there was any objection to this union. There was silence at first and then a strange occurrence… laughter. It was low at first, but then the giggles seem to catch on among our friends who had been watching us, particularly Elizabeth. Objection, they seemed to ask. Hadn't there already been far more than enough?

At last my cousin Carolyn belted out the words, "HARDLY! Get the two of them married for Heaven's sake!"

The Minister announced the vested authority he bequeathed on us to bring us that much closer and I tasted her… but more than that, for she opened her lips and guided me into a world of unspeakable passion and memories flooding over us as the vocal reactions merely grazed our ears, loud as they were. Stranger still was a certain sharpness on her teeth, the cuspids that had given me the only bite of this kind I ever willing accepted. And yet the sun streamed in through windows both of plain and stained glass. A certain relation showed us how this was possible. I felt her in my arms and her hands about me and an echo of the merest thought flittered through my mind, "Are you happy now, my love?"

I was kissing her still, but wondering how she had done this. What had happened to us as we took this step into an eternal bond for what could last as many centuries as we'd been apart? I pulled away, looking into her softly smiling eyes.

"Yes," she seemed to be telling me, "the long wait… is over."

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_Don't forget, this next chapter will be going to the M-rated pile. If anyone remembers all the other chapters they will be revised, and enhanced. Thanks_


	2. Chapter 2: The Wedding Night

Pit of Ultimate Spoiler Notes (which you are welcome to skip): Upon analyzing this set of stories further I think I understand this fear gained by Barnabas. The unbelievable concept that he could finally have this bride through remarkable circumstances leaves him in a vulnerable state of affection.

Considering Josette went over Widow's Hill under circumstances of decisions he made, but weren't necessarily his fault, shows himself to be a monster. Returning 170 odd years afterward, having lost cognizance over all the details and likely a full memory of Josette (again I fill in continuity gaps) Maggie Evans was originally a symbolic trophy of Josette rather than the real thing, and thus in his madness he kidnaps her, trying to brainwash her into what little he can recall of his Josette.

In "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" this yearning is revisited in a hypnosis regression where Maggie has trouble recalling that she IS indeed Josette as it is blocked by the repressed kidnapping. The two recollections conflict with one another. Before she can go back to that time period where Josette perished in 1795 she has to face the fact of being kidnapped, which had been blocked by Dr. Hoffman. After this is faced, her identity as Josette comes out.

With these factors in tow he has to earn forgiveness from this double, (or triple) entity of his love. Upon achieving this he is completely at her mercy, accepting this fate willingly.

And, as any complex woman who's reached that far might do, she takes advantage of it. :) (Happy Valentine's Day)

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_Songs recommended for this chapter:_

_"Sakrileg" by Stoa & "Consecrated Lover" by Aurora Sutra_

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Chapter Two: The Wedding Night

_"Even if I were to leave Collinwood tomorrow, I know that my feelings would not change. Wherever I go I would think of you. I would always have to fight that urge to come back to try and find you. That's why I know it's useless for me to think of leaving... you could not stay away because you know our destinies are one. That there is nothing, absolutely nothing that can keep us apart. ... I've dreamed about it for so long. I don't care about those things that I don't understand. Those things you said about our new life together. I only want to be with you. Don't let me go. Please, take me with you... Barnabas, _please_ take me with you." – Josette Dupres _

_(DS Episode 420, Written by Gordon Russell)_

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When I entered Her it was the beginning of the most engrossing passion of my life… and when I say my _life_, I do admit to having this encompass who I am from the end of a scepter most obvious and to the provisions of a love most grand.

Of course, when we had stepped into this room, she knew that to have me there with her, was to remember an incarnation she knew and remembered easily. What else would this existence be for? To engage in an act so deep and bewitching... That's what we were here for… of course…

It _was_ her room; the proof had been made clear. She was the same girl that I loved so long ago, not only in her looks, or in her very flesh, but her soul had spoken the truth. Josette _had _come back to me. I had not been so absurd to incarnate her in my mind, just a terrible fool compelled with bloodlust and a long absence of being alive, to see how to bring her out again. Others had to make this possible, and in this way, I know now, I am not alone, was not alone. And here she was again, for me, _for us_.

The door was shut, the candles were lit and the fire ablaze as we stood before each other, shuddering, saying nothing... There were no words to say. She smiled not, but her mouth opened and I saw what long ago had horrified us both... the sharpened teeth... her teeth... glints of moisture exposing something I never believed I'd expect from her, though somehow I welcomed it: a pearl barbed beauty. And yet... she had them not to feed upon the innocent, but mainly to feed upon me.

What once had cursed us, now altered, had blessed us.

She looked at my neck and I feared a violent move but no, she was removing the cloth from my throat, undoing whatever buttons there were along me with a determined fever and I began on her clothes in the same manner, whatever I could find to untangle from her wedding gown, fearing I'd tear it apart in the passion that had gained heavily on us as we had come hand in hand up the stairs. All objects from her hair came loose and fell to the floor. My nature was to place these articles somewhere carefully but there was no time to be lost, regardless of eons we had to enjoy each other in the future.

I had to yield down my arms to help her remove my coat and shirt. All was dropping on the floor and she began a half kneel to pull off more. I caught the sleeves of her dress as she lifted her arms up. I twisted my hands into the cuffs and pulled. The cloth coursed over her well shaped fingers, the nails now much sharper than they had ever been. I watched as her misty features slipped from under the last of this larger garment and revealed her divine face to me once more. She stood up again only in her slip.

With her brown hair, almost auburn and her form, so beguiling I took all in my hands and possessed her, as she had never let me possess her before. Still, it was up to her to dictate all of this, her pleasure being far more important than mine. The point is, that she had forgiven almost all I had done and… perhaps was prepared to chain _me_ as I had chained her and I was ready for it. Believe me.

The fear I had… was uncertain. I most likely deserved anything I received, after threatening punishment so much, but at this point I could not care less. I wouldn't mind being wrestled to the ground and whipped as I deserved... _by Her_. Now however, I only felt pangs of further longing as her hands had taken me at the waist and she pressed her fingers in there, then released them.

She allowed me to let loose from this tension as I clenched at the front of this last garment between us. I stopped and she gave me a slow nod, the strength in her gaze telling me what to do. I reached both hands now in this grip and whatever this silky material had been was torn apart, floating away as our breathing marvelled at the stillness that came after. We were revealed before each other now, once only in spirit and now in flesh.

Yet I looked not away from her face. I reached for her, sliding my hands around her there, coursing fingers under her hair as she embraced me tightly. Kissing her, I closed my eyes and knew no need to gaze on her body now that it was pressed all over mine.

The incessant love I felt for my once lost Josette, was imploding on destiny toward this new bride, who was both _her_ and Maggie Evans. And I sensed an unknown temptation of scintillation upon every aspect of my skin. What cared I for the blood of other mortals… when the blood of her inner soul was all that mattered to me?

We held each other and our lips more than touched, colliding and pursuing each other, but she was unveiling something more as our hearts quickened. She stepped me to the right and about so that I was almost falling backward onto the sheets and blankets that had been turned down.

Then she bit me with rage, and shackled me to her bed with her fists… and all that was glorious in it is unknown to any other mortal… not that *I* was that, of course. And neither was She at this point. She felt down my front with her hands and lips and a sharp pain took me on one side below. As she drained the blood from my hip I cried out in ecstasy… but that was only the beginning.

As my loins sprang to life, she licked the wounds she inflicted and I could only stare through the lace of her canopy, into the cracks of the ceiling and wonder. Had it really been so long? So long that this house had stood without so much love and drawn out with so many moaning ghosts? Oh… but **would** they ever moan as _I_ was moaning now?

She now laid above me and we were one. In and out I flowed within her, the place where all life might begin, if I hadn't been so cursed to see it at the neck instead, but rather down below. She knew and will always know, what could please me. I _had_ known that! My pulse throbbed with the intensity as she came upon me and we kissed… She responded violently, smarting my lips, but I welcomed it, her ivory pale legs wrapping around me in the thrust and jab of all that meant total completion between us.

I caressed her ribs and all _nearby regions__,_ not only her maternal flesh, but any surrounding there. Her sternum between, shoulders and gorgeously perfect clavicle I harnessed and slid my hands over, enjoying the belief and disbelief of all that we were sharing. She had her own tones of approval, leaning to kiss me, as she absorbed my breath in the inhale of a whisper, draping the soft linens over us.

As I felt her skin I speculated her beauty, her expression. She was pleased... and, dearest Heavens above... she was pleased... with me.

Of course, there was only firelight in this room, but it illumined her precious lips, which glistened upon my sight and intoxicated me further. I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn't. To look upon this love of which I'd desired so ceaselessly, as I'd pined so longingly, and finally _had_… after suffering the long awaited forgiveness only she could allow me. And of course, I had to release all inhibition of being in _any_ control. It was her, and her alone who could be in control… of _me._

What did I care, though? As we rolled off the bed and throughout the room, colliding from wall to wall, from one furnishing to another… all cares melted away, and her softly gasping laughter echoed with the fall of the objects from her vanity table… not that she was vain… Oh no! _I'd_ prepared those things for her. And she had proven to me… that all she cared about… was _I_… and the delectation of our long awaited joy… as this was so obvious to me now… and… as we cascaded within each other, thanking each other, loving each other.

Along the floor we twirled and spun… the bed-clothes trailing around us, her upon me and surrounding me… and I within her, clenching her at the waist… adjusting to the furthest reaches of her _inner beauty_, as she clawed at my scalp, then ran her fingers down my neck and sank her teeth into my shoulder.

And her herald: Josette, though identical to her in beauty, and very likely, though not to my knowledge, also like her in the act of love... or perhaps the act of lust? But what is the difference in this instant? A combination of beauty assailed me as we suckled upon each other's flesh. There had been modesty earlier… but tonight? …not a trace could be found between her nor myself as we dined in passion on one another.

Of course, what else would be expected when we rolled close to the hearth fire and ignited ourselves so near of its flame that the sparks singed our skin? What sweet pain it was, too. Had we not already bruised each other with what had come before? What a comfort it would be to sooth the wounds inflicted by a love so divine?

Beside the fireplace we'd managed together to slide her back up along the paneling between it and the window. Her knees a firm embrace around my middle... my yearning never ceasing, my passion growing worse.

AND… when I had penetrated her so deeply in that place… that our lovemaking finally shook the portrait off the wall? Did she care? No… _she laughed_… for that painting was **not** her… _she_, the true her, was there, and I was within her and she was encompassing me so completely. And that was _all_ she cared about.

Hearing her strong inhale I halted and we stared at each other. Her clasp below maintained and her arms wrapped around my shoulders, burrowing my face into her neck, but I would take nothing there, only carry her back to her bed where we would continue and did.

There may have been no Maggie Evans at all, if I had not loved that Miss Dupres, and met her again over a century later and known this fiery devotion for both. Ha! Of course, _is it not_ like a man, to want more than _one_ woman? And is it not easier for one to enjoy the pleasures of _two_ at once, like this?

One might resent me for enjoying this so thoroughly… but thankfully, who I was with… both in spirit and in _body_ and with intensity… _loved me_… and even if she wanted to chain me down, or lacerate me with either a branding or perhaps simply her exquisite cuspids, I cared not… as long as she stroked me, as long as she loved me… as long as she lovingly hurt me with a pain so unyielding as to set my sinews aflame.

...

"And what did you think of that?" I asked later, as we lay in each other's arms upon her bed, "shall you tell me?"

"As we sit in the dark, Barnabas," she answered, "and you let me whisper… I will."

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_I know the box below is somehow daunting but if all you have to say is "YIKES!" ... well... I heartily agree! :)_


	3. Chapter 3: What We Whispered

_For this chapter, we continue to explore the wedding night after their climactic enjoyment when first stepping into the room and allowed to consummate their marriage. If you notice the tool bar above these words and below the summary, there are a few useful icons to alter the size and style of the text (A+, A-, A, then width, line spacing and my favourite the half-moon symbol.) Of these 6 icons the one on the right will adjust the page so that the text will be white on black instead of black on white, which is rather glaring. Can't believe I didn't figure it out after all of this time. Hope that helps._

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_Suggested songs for this chapter: "My Inner Labyrinth" and "La Luna Blanche" by Stoa_

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Chapter 3: What We Whispered

_"I know that you are dead but still you are alive. I'm not afraid of death, only of living without you. I'm yours. There's no ceremony that could make me more your wife."_

_"You are my wife, yes, as you were always meant to be."_

_Josette Dupres & Barnabas Collins (DS Episode 421 Written by Sam Hall)_

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As you recall, my bride answered my question that first night we were together at last. I'd asked her what she thought of what happened when she dominated me completely, allowing me some grasping, some tantalizing touches upon her hips to bring us closer; a union I'd longed for with every inch of my being, with every breath in my lungs, all the yearning of my soul. More disbelief resounds in me to be able to explore her fascinating body, renewed from the ravages of her fall from Widows Hill, into something more beautiful than she ever was before: a woman of kindness, refinement and power. The three elements of womanhood combined to create my Margar_ette_. She has the gentility of my Josette and _is_ my Josette, along with the austere boldness of Lady Hampshire, my Kitty Soames, and the determined distaste for abusive nonsense as my Maggie Evans was born with, as all of them.

Her breath was soft and rich along my face as I held her. _Dare I actually hold her?_ We wore nothing but the bedclothes and our bands of silver and gold (yes, the blended metals as on my cane). Resting side by side... propped up against bolsters filled with feather down, her right arm about my back as my left was around hers. One would think I was sated entirely by this trysting we'd had, but no. I was relieved but I wanted her all the more as her first whisper to me was, "We'll never be done..."

"Oh, my bride... Tell me," I exhaled shakily.

"Which one of me do you want to speak?" she teased.

"No, " I said, "please don't taunt me with that, Maggie, please."

Even in the low light of the candles and fire she faced me. I could see her eyebrow raise and the delight at the corner of her smile, "You're all mine now, Barnabas Collins..." here a light laugh, "I can do whatever I _like_ with you."

And I knew she could.

A new experience for me, to be controlled willingly, not coerced. My own desires enchanted into being and to be wanted by the one that I wanted. To be sanctified in holy wedlock, and combined with her, having consummated that union.

I could not smile. She terrified me so. I struggled through all the ages to have her, to be blessed with a kind heart out of all the wickedness I'd fallen to pursue from my curse, to earn her respect and her love again, to be Hers. In all of it I never thought I would receive something even more than all I'd seen and known. It _was_ her. It was _truly_ her, the woman I'd fallen in love with, but in this journey we were more, much more.

"Our souls have not made peace, _mon demón_," she said quietly. I was once vexed by this pet name she called me, but _now?_ I held it to my breast like a jewel whenever she uttered it.

"Speak to me, my love," I begged my bride, "tell me all..."

"It is our souls bonded to this flesh, isn't it, Barnabas? Can it be flesh alone that makes my skin tingle, almost sting with desire?"

I knew what she meant. I felt it too.

"Did you feel any power against that wall?" she questioned, pointing with her eyes where we'd turned the fallen portrait away. She didn't want her old-self to stare at us anymore tonight.

"Power? Perhaps an endowment of _yours_ all over me, Josette Dupres." I admitted with some confidence.

"But no power to enforce me with anything?" she asked.

"Don't you know?" I expressed, lowly, doubtfully, clasping my hand at her waist beneath the bedclothes, and a thrilled clasping it was for me.

"I do, but I wanted to hear you define it," she eyed me wickedly.

"I felt commanded by you to throw us there... though we weren't there long. I was more than willing. I've been tricked to show love before, but hardly seduced as you've managed to take from me... and _to give_."

My bride was very pleased, lowering her chin and pushing her determined stare into mine, "I _did_ command you... and... it looks like you approve... _don't_ you?"

"How could I not?" I asked, truthfully, "In all my years, decades, over seventeen of them, _for you?_ Can anyone deny how you've set my soul on fire with this blissful torment? And now... we've achieved it."

A dark thrill bloomed on her exquisite face, "Oh no, we haven't."

"Oh? What do you mean?"

"There will be moments when we achieve it, but they move in time like our love for each other... like my passion towards you, my husband."

She took my right hand that was resting on her hip under the soft sheets, she moved it slowly and in a petrified hunger I watched as it revealed her to me, rising over the untainted skin about her stomach, the furrows along her rib cage and then I breathed in a low excitement as she pressed my hand on her bosom.

"Do you feel my heart?" she almost demanded in her quiet words, a whisper stabbing the dark.

"I..." faltering, I tried to answer, "I feel more than that, of course." I was rising beneath the bedclothes again. She seemed to be lost in beguiling me, knowing she could dictate my desires yet still wanting answers to questions, ideas of which I was unsure. _Answer simply, damn it_, I tried to tell myself. But to be so silent now, so quiet, so focused on this spot. _Her heart and more..._

"I feel it."

"The same heart... for you, Barnabas. The same love for you. The same vibration in my flesh for yours and my soul to yours..."

I blinked wondering, marvelling, feeling her pulse in my fingers.

"And what would it have been like if I had bitten you that night? If I had finally turned you into the same creature I was then?" I asked, thinking of when I was so much younger and she was only one woman.

"We didn't know, did we?" she told me, "We didn't know there were other ways to be. Less resolution, so many more absolutes... back then. But the pounding remains, a simple idea. Our longing for each other... don't you agree?"

"Yes," I said, "Of course I do... You are the one, Margaret Dupres, the only one who knows and now with all of your knowledge, you know how to help me and to help all of us."

Her smile became gentle, less dark and pinched, "Perhaps. I'm not that self-assured."

How she could afflict me and perhaps ought to do. Steadfast in my determination to always be true to her, to the point of ludicrously believing I could invoke her in women who were not her, even into a dominion of forcing a porcelain likeness on someone who had secretly always been Her.

Margaret Josette Dupres.

She had taken this name upon our marriage as had been suggested. And... I'd thrown convention to the winds for this delight. Centuries ago I'd grown in this house, saw its gloomy austerity and wanted it changed. Then I saw Josette Dupres and knew that it could be changed. After everything else, I felt her breast, the pulse and the heat coming from it, my fingers pressing into her chest as it throbbed for us and our union. Even more I saw the glint on her hand over mine, the band that symbolized all this as she pressed my palm onto her thews.

"Don't you?" she uttered, "I think you feel more than what is in your hands?"

I tried to breathe, but her presence was so stifling to any inhalation I could derive.

"I do, Josette, but" I dared to asked, "please, tell me... what is it... you want... out of all of this... right now?"

She slid her hand along my side, "Must I tell you? I want your comfort, your adoration and the generosity I know is there..."

"You have that already..." I told her, grazing her face with my own.

"Oh no, I don't... otherwise you would have clutched at where I'd shown you minutes ago."

That's when I knew. She wanted to make love again... and likely again for weeks in this room, wherein we'd wanted and waited, perhaps I alone most of the time... but she told me, in all of the terrible circumstances wherein I'd locked her away, her own ghost was calling out to her, my sister was calling out to her, and she was calling out to herself, so sadly and wondering why I couldn't simply let her relax and ask, "Are You The One?"

I did as she bid... I clutched and she exhaled lovingly with a plea. I'd dispelled my thoughts in all of the confusion, but when she reached for my face, I went to kiss her at first, but her grip turned away my chin and I knew what she was asking me. My hand opened wider and I leant my head to her breast and fed. She inhaled excitedly, and I massaged her around the ribs of her mammary. Suckling tenderly her exquisite womanhood above as I'd so longed to do but was too afraid. Now she was asking, inviting, pleading, and I could never say no. I could speak no word from my mouth so filled with her beauty now. Her gasping breath in this only excited me further and I tried to envelope even more of her maternal flesh into the only opening I had to offer.

"Take me," she commanded, "please, enter me again, my love."

I continued at her breast and moved above her. Her hands didn't want to let go so the time I spent on her motherly beauty distracted me a little as I made good to move above her to do as she requested... no..._ demanded_ what I do. To feel her again? To be within her again? Why on earth would anyone think I would object? They must be far madder than I **ever** was.

I had to let go of her chest and longed to press my lips to hers, which I did. At first her hands were at my face, but then reached down to slip me inside of her and we breathed together in awe of each other. Kissing, inhaling, bonding, filling each other in this room likely flooded with pheromones in all the attempts to place her in it. As I pursued my love into her, blended with her fiery kisses, her caresses along my ribs, I found this startling thought: of all her incarnations standing, adoring and even tortured in this place, the felicitous occurrence that all three were at last woven together here and I... engorged in the flesh of their combination. One woman, one soul, three lifetimes... but the analysis escaped me again as I felt her inside and out. My precious sleeping beauty now awake, alive and resolving in our unity.

I clasped my hands around the back of her shoulders, to hold her and to move her closer, feeling her, trusting she knew what I was telling her as I grew within her, thinking far back to when she asked me to tell her I didn't love her so long ago. I could never tell her that. I wished to tell her again how I love her, but my lips surrounded her at the throat instead, as we continued the rocking, melding and motion as one.

Josette inhaled, almost gasping up to the headboard in exoneration of her feelings. Her stomache against mine, I leant down to her chest again, but she groped at my face, "No..." a whisper and a scream, "no..." quieter now, "too much, please, just kiss me."

I did, and her return was slow. The rhythm below increased, then decreased and became gentle and she opened her lips in our kiss. It was similar to what she'd done after we were announced husband and wife only hours before. She only opened slightly, to wrap her lips upon mine and create the action in I to do the same.

Had it only been hours? Hours ago, not even a day, and our universe had changed from wonder to destiny, from craving to knowing, from all the horrors bestowed us to something so beautiful that to behold it brings a splendour indefinable... even in I.

I felt a love from her lips, down my center and toward where we were combined sexually, beautifully, unconditionally now. Bracing myself higher, I drew the side of my hand down from her neck, along her chest, toward her abdomen.

"Yes," she said, "I feel it. I feel it... as well."

"I am grateful," I said, " to be so close, to be with you. As obvious as this is... may I tell you?"

"Please," she answered.

"I love you, Josette Dupres."

My beautiful, precious bride smiled, "And I love you... Barnabas Collins."

* * *

_And how did they wake up the next day? Let me know if you want to find out! :) (Actually it's the publication of this novel that's making me so nervous to post chapters without reviews. A few chapters will be missing because publishing firms aren't too hot on publishing anything that's already been seen online for free, so when we get there I'll summarize each. They'll be like the "bonus tracks" on a compact disk.)_


	4. Chapter 4: Josette Speaks

_As in that old quotation from William Congreve's "The Mourning Bride" (1697)_

_"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,_  
_Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."_

_I'd like to add, that perhaps, Paradise has no glory, like a woman satisfied._

_(Thank you, Helena for "Paradise" when I used to say "Heaven".)_

* * *

Chapter 4: Josette Speaks

When I awoke I almost asked Pop if the coffee was made yet, and then I blinked. Oh, yes, I smiled, that's right. I'm married now and I live here, in my old room from so long ago. I turned to find Barnabas... but he wasn't there. I panicked into wakefulness.

"Where-?!"

"I'm here, Maggie. I'm right here," his rich voice softly calmed me, "it's all right. I thought of getting dressed and going for a walk but I wouldn't leave you. Not after everything. Not the first morning."

He was sitting in front of the fire but his chair was turned toward me. His elbow set on the ornate armrest and hands clasped together, gazing at me with that loving gaze some could confused with a dreary stare. I knew it so well, and I adored it.

I looked about the room. The portrait was still turned away. Many of the items we'd strewn from their places were put back in order. Did he do that? I finally asked him as I looked about.

"Yes," he answered, "I did. It was fitting to do. I preferred tending to it than have anyone else step into the room. You aren't exactly sheltered from sight... my wife."

My wife. The title chilled my innards. Connected by ceremony and consummation now... I was thrilled by that truth as he spoke it.

Covering myself under the sheets, I sighed, relaxing, "Well, why didn't you stay in bed with me?"

"I did," he answered, "I did for an hour or so. You know... my caresses seemed to please you, even in your sleep." And here there was a glow, almost a smile.

"Did they? Couldn't keep your hands off of me, could you?" I teased.

"No," he answered, and his lighter expression was removed, "and I was worried. I know bad dreams have haunted you before. I didn't want them to interrupt the sleep you needed."

"Wanted to make sure I was relaxed, Barnabas?" I grinned.

"Does that displease you?"

"No," I said, "but you know my sense of humour. I'm very touched... but I suppose with you," I lowered my voice, "I was going to be."

He stood up, his long black robe reaching to his ankles and wavering as he slowly stepped around the bed, holding on to a post, reaching the opposite side to where I sat and staring at me with those hazel eyes.

"Margaret Josette Dupres... you are a wonder," he told me softly and then sat beside me, taking my hand, "as beautiful to behold in the morning as in the night."

"Is it still morning?" I asked, practically.

"Only just. About half-past eleven."

"What?" I asked in surprise, "Did I sleep that long? I should get up right now and-"

"And what?" he interrupted my sudden change, "Hurry on to the day? Rush off to work? Forget what happened yesterday? Always running away from idleness, Maggie Evans."

It was his turn to tease me.

I laughed, "You have a point, my dear. How could I forget last night?"

"Think about it too much and it'll continue," he breathed.

"Isn't that what a honeymoon is for?" I asked.

"Is that what this is? We haven't gone anywhere."

"Yes we have," I pointed out, "we come forward in time. How's that for a get away?"

"Josette, you are a marvel," he smiled.

"Don't compliment me," I said, reaching towards him, "just kiss me."

He did and that melting down my center began to stir.

...

Now I look at the page as I pen these details. It was such a beautiful morning. From all that occurred the previous night, a ravish of adoration and then a relish of it later on. His love filled me so and my heart brimmed with compassion and trust. How horrible it all must have been for him. I've been so very proud at what he accomplished. My feelings for him obviously never changed. I kept coming back to the same places, across oceans of water and oceans of time. I must smile now. I finally was born in the right place; Collinsport.

...

Perhaps I am not Josette of old, but as he knows me now. And when I say he knows me, should I describe all the corners and crevices… the sensory and prescience of not just my body… but my very soul? For it is all one, when it comes down to it. Though I'd love to recount just how it's all been explored.

As I've been made to look upon so many people, it isn't so difficult to reconcile who I am with so many others. _I've_ had to peruse the darker aspects of human nature, both in my long hours as a waitress and between other worlds. You see, I _do_ understand other people, and as my husband says, I don't like to be idle.

However, the shocking realization of being so much more dominates my mind at times. I see Collinwood so much differently, although it is in keeping with my dreams as a little girl. No wonder the estate gave me a sense of dread. I saw Collinwood in flashes of varying beauty and horror. It would change on me to be ornate and shadowed in different ways. My eyes weren't playing tricks on me, my soul was remembering being here twice before. Old visions of it would impose themselves over the modern and the connection was fragmented... as I was.

Coming into being a combination was startling at first, but the more I aligned myself with what I experienced, a long life stretched before me as one and each change reminds me again of all my own changes in this lifetime alone. Are any of us the same as a child to who we are growing into adulthood? Something still retains as we all carry forward. I've looked at it like that. My life as Josette continues and has blossomed into the type of woman that makes sense for Barnabas now. Shared pain, long spells of tragedy, urges set forth through six generations of family history, and a love so strong I kept coming back.

But was this intentional? Pappa seems to believe so. He remembers even more of what the universe unfolds around us whereas I mostly retain what happened in the physical realm. Pop... Pappa? Why did we never guess on that one? Still, that makes sense, too. He's always been so philosophical. Perhaps not so much as Pappa, but as Pop a truer nature stands out.

So much has happened to me it can alarm some that no one wanted to tell my story. I presume they ask how can someone of so little complexity as **_I_** be of any use to anyone? Well, I must take some umbrage at that assumption. I've had to re-live other times as myself. So, you might imagine, that kind of harsh reality can make me pretty unhappy in others assuming its worth-less-ness. Though, when it comes to this town, I don't mind so much as long as I can help everyone. And from what Mr. Loomis has told me, they all appreciate what I might be able to do here.

Yes, I've picked up that odd habit from our other helpmate and find myself calling Willie, Mr. Loomis. He took it in stride at first and then I saw that reflection arise. That grin of his with closed eyes, folded arms, and stance so filled with smirk at times.

"Yeh know," he told me, "I'been called that plenty of times but it ain't like now, is it, Maggie? Why is that?"

"Because we call you that respectfully. Other people likely did it to taunt and look down on you. You've earned too much taking care of us to be spoken to like that anymore."

His understanding of this slowly lit up his expression. He recognized what I was telling him in a mystified repose. How far we had come together and how much farther he'd brought himself to create a better place for us here, and for himself. Ah, Willie Loomis: Once the worst of troublemakers, now, our darling man.

And yes… sometimes I just want to wrap Mr. Loomis in my arms and kiss him tenderly on the cheek, and perhaps I have, but when my husband looks on, he doesn't mind so much. We're all friends here, aren't we? Besides, there's another girl coming to see Mr. Loomis soon. We believe she loves him and he'll be surprised at how he feels about her. That strapping fellow deserves a mischievous girl… and he's going to get one if we have any idea about the matter.

However, I haven't had a chance to tell _my_ story. As you know, I did send more than a glance toward the lover I've been waiting several generations to have. And perhaps, if I hadn't gone through that hypnosis, I may not have known. But I _did_ want him, _before_ I knew all the rest… and afterward, when I had time to reflect, and Barnabas has time to prove he was worth forgiving… I was happy to find out he was able to _prove_ other things to me.

Hmm… and what was that? You have obviously wondered. Well! Oh, the length… the breadth, the ability to do more than satisfy on all points of pleasure. It's his own precious beauty that shows me all we need is a simple flow from Him to me. It's all I need. Although it's not all I get. His love is wide enough, and I am patient to explore what he has to offer. Why else were we all in love with him? I am willing to share the details, hence these memoirs, you know. Why else would I be telling all of this?

Moreover, what of this requited love? He's done more than adore me... for ever so long... but what no one has ever understood is that I felt the same way towards him in return. The forceful side of me has come out more often than anyone took notice of... except Barnabas Collins. We've watched each other struggle throughout nearly two centuries. Thwarted repeatedly, but as I've said, our destinies are one.

How much did I really attack him, as he described? I'm afraid he overshadowed his own lust in describing mine. He can be a bit docile, I admit, but he failed to describe the array of avid caresses he attended to my torso before I soaked my mouth in the blood of his hips. It was obviously a sweet torment to him, I confess, but nothing as to what I felt then, when I knew we were to be joined at last from that moment.

I had no idea how much I would enjoy myself as this new creation, nor the taste of his blood, but after having to return so often and in this new way that wasn't cursed, perhaps staying longer, existing longer and with him was what we needed. The two of us wanted to spend an eternity together. Now that we had that possibility I wondered how it would turn out. One never knows, but the idea of trying was never in question.

You see… he'd waited more than one lifetime, but *I* had waited three… and that's a l-o-n-g time to wait for such yearning. That first night together comes to me in flashes still. The intensity of it began a new memory that haunts but in delightful, thrilling ways, and made us both desire more.

I put him on his back and had to take one bite before I could proceed further. He did nothing at that point and I guided him in… and you may _never_ know the delicious cringe on his face when I enacted it all. Of course, he made a grapple for my chest and all surrounding, as I did in kind. There could never be enough time to probe every particle of each other.

And yes, the painting _did_ fall down… and the frame was lightly singed from the hearth fire, as we were. But I've been considering having a new one made anyway, now that I know all that I am and have been. And he's been wanting that as well, not from such strong desire, but a quaint and subdued curiosity. Still, I was very proud when I could relax and he could take over, and that was how we were thrown against the wall and my old and tormented portrait fell. And I _did_ laugh.

I _have _been so tired of being objectified.

Although, when it comes to that, I have no objections to him fondling my parts, or biting at my ankles, or kissing me all over as I've so ever waited to experience. And as I've responded in kind to _him,_ as well. It really has been a long time. And when it comes to long… I do tell of some gratification he has in this regard.

You may ask, shouldn't I be shy about all of this? Well, I'm not likely to include any of it in holiday letters, no. But a little journal that certain close friends and relations will someday enjoy? That's all right. I've been around too long to concern myself with the display of affections untold. Goodness knows we've all had plenty of violence, and really, which is of higher value? I think my husband knows the answer to that now.

Oh, dear, I have run on more about my reflections than of that next day together, but I see Barnabas across from me penning the same thing. Perhaps he'll put it down more accurately than I could. I'm hoping to enjoy his details of it. It should inspire even more...

He's been so desirous and far more demonstrative of it than he lets on. It's helpful, considering what a complete fool he's been. But I still love him dearly. I only wish he'd been blessed with more street smarts when it comes to these things. But that's all right… I shall teach him. Of course, in my current capacity, I'm the only one… who can.

Still, that might only be because I've had this most recent life-time. As I've told him, perhaps I was so wealthy the other two times, and poor this time around to understand where it would be that monetary help would make the most impact. When I explained that, after we'd imbibed on each other, do you know what he said?

He said, "If my wealth can make any of that easier, it's at your disposal."

"How can you do that?" I asked, "Simply giving me _all_ of what you own… like that?"

And he answered, "Well, you've already given me… _yourself_."

* * *

_And of course, that last bit of dialogue was all I was shooting for when I did the original visualization that came out from the second chapter. Clothes off, it's rather M rated. Clothes on it's simply an observation of a marriage vow._

_You know, I'm really not sure about this one. She talks about the morning after and then various other details, which might work for a journal. I plan to have him continue what happens that next day they spend together. This chapter has always been a tough case. Let me know if I should change anything._


	5. Chapter 5: Sharing The Past

_Further is explored the day after the wedding, walking the grounds and recognizing past troubles, as well as accepting who they are in the spooky realm they call "Home"._

* * *

Chapter 5: Sharing The Past, The Present & The Future

Did not I venture to disclose what I and my beloved might encounter during our second evening together, after I'd discussed and displayed our undertakings for the first? Ah, I shall find the words for that in due course when I focus on what led us there.

I know when she awoke that first morning after we were wed she was suddenly concerned about sleeping in so late, but that would be the way of it now. Rare would be the mornings we'd have. There was daylight for us, but dawns we'd know little of beyond occasionally blinking at their wonder and fading off to sleep. This was splendid considering how the dawn of our lives together unfolded in such a change.

I had known the frightening, though delicious enjoyment of removing Josette's wedding gown, even suffering to destroy the undergarment of it as she had allowed. This was a bold mixture of torrid agony and blissful excitement. In all her passion the sweetness never left her, but her other components, as lovely as the original, were there.

Ah, of something new, it was helping her to _dress_. She showed me all of the new methods to lace her up or latch her clothing. And Maggie did something unique as I watched her in front of her vanity table, now as the mess had been cleaned, that is. She beckoned me to stand closer and then put the hair brush into my hand. I looked at it and then at her uncertainly and she almost laughed, "Go ahead, I've worked through whatever tangles at the end we managed together last night."

I began slowly at the top and then felt the thrush down, not wanting to mar a single filament on her head. I saw through the mirror, (which yes, did reflect us,) that her eyes closed and she was experiencing a certain pleasure from this simple custom. I stood and gathered her tresses underneath, feeling the prickles against my hand as I went down with the strokes from the brush. It strangely enticed me. Could all of this be so? I'd always wondered what would happen but my imagination failed me to understand the possibilities as so many obstacles kept steering us away from this bliss.

As I continued her scent floated to me and I found myself drawing the brown locks away, putting the brush down and pressing my lips to her neck. She took my arms and guided me in the embrace of her.

"Now don't destroy _this_ dress, Barnabas Collins," she warned, "I've been looking forward to wearing it today. A blend of old and new."

"I've noticed that," I said, smiling at her warning, "everyone seems so under-dressed to me but once in a while there are designs that are akin to what we knew."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For saying we." She answered.

At last, I wasn't trying to fool myself anymore. With all I had been pressed to understand, she knew this world in all its varying arrays. She knew my questions, but better still she had the answers to them.

The dress itself was arranged from a new pattern, form fitting from the waist up, flowing long in the skirt and a light pattern of tiny flowers, running in separated strips and bordered with vertical lines on white material. The tightness reminded me of her as Kitty, the colour and design reminded me of her as Josette, but of course the modern creation of it was Maggie Evans as all three of them. The sleeves ran down to her elbows with some ruffling spreading outward and the neck was high. A plain collar but a front piece below that had a bib-like quality, striped with trimming of white lace and ineffectual buttons.

The look was delightful but the essence of modern clothing had often perplexed me because of its need to appear functional and helpful, but then turning out to be useless, such as faux pockets which had flaps but no pouch attached. Really, why go through all the bother of sewing it without those additions? Does even our clothing have to be dishonest?

As we stepped out of the door our arms glided together and we noticed patches of clouds creating rays of sunlight blending with the scenery of our home and surroundings.

"What I like best of all is not living at the Main House of Collinwood," she confessed.

"Why is that, my love?"

"I prefer being able to see it. I wasn't all that fond of my rooms there anyway. Too many bad memories. Fighting against myself as Kitty. Aunt Natalie pacing around my bed. Ghosts ruining my sleep. It isn't a wonder I did the same when I was separated from myself. Those memories aren't very nice, but there are a few that have magic."

"Such as?" I questioned, we strolling together.

"Any when I was in your arms, of course. Sarah playing outside or even coming to find me again when things were so horrible between us. One moment that had a strange magic to it... when I was regressed to the kidnapping... I felt terrified, but as I came to remember that, I was also reaching farther back, I was asking, 'Who is Josette?' Then I quivered in this vacuum that was surging towards me, like a silken rope my heart was tugging on, and the memories came back. I had my answer: She's me."

At this point we halted our walk.

"It sounds very painful," I took her by the elbows and she spread her hands along my chest, thoughtful, then looked up and said, "It wasn't. Not until I had to relive my fall. It took so long after that to come back to try again. And then again. Each time that part of me got lost, stretching out and looking for you, my Barnabas."

Here my lips reached the side of her face and found it, soft, smooth and wholesome to the touch.

We continued through this day into the woods between here and Eagle Hill Cemetery. We marvelled at each spot that had come to mean devastation to our lives. Maggie would pull me toward a tree or a rock or any spot that had caused us pain in the past, embrace me and focus her ardor towards me, dedicating each spot in a glory of cleansing it with love. She had a way of sliding her cheek along mine with arms holding me close that brought a spark to my insides and the wavering of what others call butterflies but I call divinity. Such as she was in my arms, the loss of her always bringing anguish to my spirit, to have her now was the grandeur of eternity. The merest thought of not cherishing it was a detestable concept to me.

But when we reached the mausoleum I feared to go in. Josette was not and it made sense. She knew the other realms and that the renewal of her life freed her from the dangers. She opened the gate and as it creaked she gave up laughter, "I'd love to get some WD-40 on these hinges."

"Whatever that is, I believe Willie has mentioned it once to me."

She stepped into the crypt and became even more fervent, "Do you remember when we met here?"

"I remember that I wanted you and felt terrible for it." I admitted.

She stepped towards my mother's plaque, dusted it off with her fingers and blew.

"Dear Naomi Collins," she whispered, "Heavens bless you."

Then she turned about face and came to me with a smile, "What do you feel now?"

I stammered, "I... I don't know. Confusion... perturbation, I suppose."

"What about here? Can we show any amour to this place, my dearest?"

"Anywhere you like, Josette. Anything you want."

Her hands drew up my arms, loosened me at the collar. She wanted to feed again. Resounds of futile worries made a leap for my thoughts, "What would Mother think?" This was interrupted by what my Josette took from me as her teeth enveloped my throat.

The rush of adrenaline sparked through my spine, and flowed along my limbs, reaching from my vitals to a tenderness in my toes. This sensation proved to enhance all pleasures and I held her head as she drank. Not a lot, hardly salacious, just a taste. I wanted to feel shame for enacting this here with her but then she drew away from me licking her lips, "After all we've endured? No more shame, Barnabas. Accept what we are; different. Not always good, as you've said, it sets us apart from others, but accept it... as I have."

I slid my hands up, drawing in at her neck and cradling her jaw, "You don't want me... here... do you?"

She grinned, speaking in laughter, "Oh, no. Not with that caretaker nosing about. Besides, it's dreadfully dusty in here."

She lifted her hands, curling her fingers afore my ears and her lips along mine. I recalled her confession of being a fragmented spirit earlier. Now in the darkness of where we stood with the lying remains of our family, this connection was bittersweet, indeed. _Oh..._ I thought to myself, _yes, she is my wife. We share this now. Family. _I held her precious shoulders, tasted her peach-bud lips and welcomed this description of her. She was my family.

"Yes," she said, "I think I heard that. You felt it very strongly. A new form of communication is beginning between us."

"What did you hear?" I inquired in puzzled curiousity.

She hummed happily, "Nevermind. There's somewhere else I'd like to go now."

Josette lifted the fabric of her long dress slightly, took my hand and we stepped out again, closing the gate together. Walking along the leaf strewn grounds of Eagle Hill we found the spot she was looking for, where her grave was. At her headstone she knelt and looked at it. I knelt on one knee beside her, resting my cane on the ground.

After a while I couldn't help but ask, "What are you thinking of?"

"I'm being thankful... to be here again and with you and not down there. And also grateful I came back unblemished. I looked over some studies. It happens, you know. Some are born with physical scars of their previous lives. I remember how you felt about that when you revived me."

"No, it was not a pretty sight. I deeply regret doing that to you. It was very wrong of me to be so selfish. Now that I know better I'm thankful along with you. Reincarnation looks to have better results than... re-animation." I admitted, somewhat ashamed at this memory and I kissed her hand.

Her soft repose became a smile as she turned to me, "One day, Barnabas, will you do me a favour?"

"Of course," I answered, "Tell me."

"Don't stop at my hand when you kiss me like that, oui? Go up the arm."

My dear Maggie, my dearest Josette, their humour had blended together so well, and why not? They were one indefinably glorious woman after all.

Getting up we continued to explore the grounds together, sheltering in its ancestral glory and allowing it to benefit from our love. Beholding the grandeur of all these things combined and what we could bring to it. So much affection did we share and there were times when we noticed other family members from afar. They didn't intrude on our solitude, though. No. They merely smiled and waved acknowledging their shared happiness for us. We held our hands up to them or nodded in return.

"It's good to see Carolyn and Mr. Peterson brought together so well," my darling bride expressed, "If only they could be as happy as we are."

"Do you believe anyone can be?"

"No. But I can still wish for it. That's why I like keeping the journals together, Barnabas. Perhaps one day it could help someone else."

"Why?" I asked.

"Don't you know what's happening to us?"

"You tell me. I shan't venture any imaginings to your wisdom, Maggie Evans."

She grinned at this as we reached a full oceans view.

"It's something that could inspire almost any pair whose love is thwarted by all the distraction in this modern age. We had enough of our own calamity and not only in the strife. It was a rotten time to be alive if one was poor. All the modern conveniences aren't for show and pomp, they're to enrich our lives. So few look at them that way now. But you and I? We share the delights of all that time and what could be easier to focus on now, but love?"

"I'm not sure I understand you, Maggie."

"Well, look at it all. We're all so busy fussing for the extras to fill some gap, but you know what we really need is friendship, and friendships that _work_. Material possessions are supposed to enhance life, not control us. Same with games or books. It's not to waste time but to think about and have... to appreciate its moments."

"I see your point on that, my dear. But... what do you mean about the journals we've started?"

"Well," she raised an eyebrow toward me, "if we relive some of the excitement through them, what do you think it will inspire?"

I breathed, "... more?"

"Yes," she said, "which will lead to what else?"

"Writing down further details... and reading those?" I asked, but rhetorically because she'd brought a tingle to my skin with these thoughts.

"And?" her smile was wide now and her face so close.

"I see what you mean. Perhaps an eternity of this isn't impossible?"

"As long as we appreciate what we have and we have each other? We can be almost certain."

A seat was placed in this spot, which we took, though who had put it there was unknown. Perhaps this Matthew Morgan I'd once heard of, perhaps any workman Elizabeth might have hired to stow a bench so others could enjoy this rich view of the salt spray of waves crashing on the rocks. Did the moon truly create this threshing of water? I often wondered, especially now. There we stayed and thoughts became echoes of the day, then vanished away like the morning fog on a summers afternoon, leaving us content for a long time. Her head rested on my shoulder and I kissed the top of it.

As we sat facing the ocean, our hands held together I felt a tighter grip for a moment.

"Any reason for that?" I couldn't resist asking.

"Thinking about... last night."

"Which part?" I smiled.

"The second," she admitted and then took the back of her curled fingers to her mouth in a blushing manner.

"You aren't shy... are you?" I asked, inquisitive.

"Surprised... I'm sure," she told me, "but I dwell on the possibilities of more..."

I took her at the waist, knowing I'd received so much already, remembering what I'd felt from her bare skin where she was well covered now. Her lips on mine were renewing the memories of what had come before and sounds of the sea-wind, the lapping waves below stirred haunting memories of when we'd yearned for each other in this very spot so long ago.

I brought the back of my hand to graze her honey-sweet blush, and her eyes closing slowly in this touch of exquisite tenderness.

"I remember that," she breathed, "you touched me like that before. I remember, Barnabas. I remember."

"I do, as well," I echoed in response, "I didn't know but I suppose that's why I did it."

"Has any fondness been as pure as what you and I share?"

I blinked slowly, "_At times_ some may consider it rather brusque... but I don't."

I brought her face to mine and we dwelt in this vibration of joy, unclouded and lifting free as we always wished together.

Pulling away her words came out, "It's time to go back, isn't it?"

"Without a doubt." I told her.

* * *

_I'm not sure where this chapter came from, but since I channel the characters They likely know. :) Like I say, I don't do it for me, I do it for Them... but still, what Maggie reflects in this walk together I hope inspires change and better things in your life. Let me know if it has. Peace._


	6. Chapter 6: A Broken Bed

_After a days journey through the grounds, re-discovering their haunts, their broken dreams re-vitalized, our wedded couple begin recollecting the previous night and desiring more from each other... as many a happy couple might, if only we followed the wisdom, the yearning and the delightful escapades... of this one. _

* * *

Chapter 6: A Broken Bed

* * *

Forgetting about the ocean waves, my bride and I were remembering waves of passion from the previous night as we rose from our bench that faced the sea. She was up quickly and pulled me with her. Running was out of the question, but our steps back were anything but a slow gait. I watched the hem of her cream coloured dress flutter in the steps ahead. It was a long way back home but we were able to move swiftly, new powers beginning to flutter up as the sun moved closer to the horizon.

Through brush and trees a desire stirred, we moving forward as the sea breeze compelled the two of us toward the house. We passed the haunted and the hollows of places spent with horror, now made sacred with our love. Doubtfulness had been such a mainstay to my consciousness of this and _that_ was all washing through me and away from my heart as I watched her, sometimes ahead of me, sometimes beside me with hands clasped for splendours sake. The beauty of her form beside mine beckoned a charge of unity even now, though we were not united... _yet_. At one point she turned and froze, her eyes almost black in the dwindling light, a probing gaze slicing my soul.

"Here?" she dared.

I stepped closer, facing her, an understanding smile beginning, my head shaking once at an angle, "No."

Grappling each other close she breathed, "Why not?"

"Because I know this raillery," I answered, "I _know_ you, Josette Dupres."

Our open mouths folding, closing, absorbing sweet tenderness between us and our hearts were pulsing, concurrent with renewed hunger... _no_... we couldn't stay here. We had to continue... Home. And hand in hand we went.

A familiar face noticed our approach. He, in his usual black butler outfit, was an odd contrast with the push-broom he was using to sweep away nature's debris out front. He took one look at us, smiled, and opened one of the two doors. I believe I caught a raised eye-brow as we humourously nodded to each other. My brief speculation after he shut the door behind us is he would remain outside for the duration of our sojourn upstairs.

I watched her catch her skirt and slide her slender hand up the railing as she took to the steps before me. Her waist in that dress she chose... defeating my ability to concentrate on the steps I took. How I longed to hold that slim middle of hers in my embrace. And I followed her into her room. Her room, Her things, Her sanctuary of which I'd been keeping sacred for what seemed an eternity. It glowed with a luminescence I'd never known and all because... she was finally standing in it as my bride, my love, my one true desire, as she always had been. And she knew it, as I was her desire. Here we stood in our natures to know this of each other. And to _know_ in the most Biblical sense of the word.

Her door was shut, the sunset bringing peace of mind to our preternatural state. She held the bed post and turned, the skirt of her dress twirling in a flutter that brought a thrill to my heart. Auburn were her eyes, her hair, and her gaze upon me. The welcoming night would come and we would make love to usher in its beauty. I had finally accepted this blessing and moonlight was hardly an enemy to us now.

She came to me and made no time of waiting for me to make the first move, feverishly disrobing me, as I did to her in kind, undoing the buttons at the front of that dress she cared for. And why did she care for it so? Because it was meant for the day we two would be one and carry on our lives together... a euphoria of reverence.

All the while as our fingers felt to undo our clothing we kissed; cheeks, lips, necks and once a long embrace to reach forth, half undone of ourselves and our clavicle parts meeting as we caressed each other along them with our lips, I holding her around the back of her shoulders and clasping her head so close to me... wanting to show her the adoration beyond all common knowledge. Even in these kisses we had to continue undressing each other, deeply breathing and almost hurting. I must confess it was a scintillating experience, feeling her fingers along me, unbuttoning my vest, my shirt, trying to bring me so much closer. Again it was all coming off unscrupulously on the floor. I wasn't sure how to remove her dress in the hurry, but I saw her hands reach back and heard that noise reminding me of a needle sliding over a phonograph record. This dress was more difficult to remove, the sleeves being ruffled at elbow length. We managed it, though.

She **did** care about the dress and made good to fold it along the chair in front of her vanity table. Under things so scant was not what I would expect to see in my Josette, but as a new woman, I shan't complain. Her talons grew when she turned to face me again, but only a glint of fang did I see in her half opened lips. It was her mouth that produced the encravings of my heart and I welcomed them towards mine, handling her shoulders and coursing my hands down the bare skin of her sides, grappling her back, our centers pressing closer. Brief were the under things she wore that kept us apart. I longed to remove them but was too sensitive to her needs to know if I should induce the attempt.

I, myself, stood in almost no clothes at all.

Then she was a little distracted.

There were a few gratings upon the doorknob, which she had to step lively, half-naked, to check. Of course, it was only a ghost of a sound, but it was just as well that she turned the key in the lock, as I would in due course turn upon her lock, as it were, with my key… I was _waiting._

As I saw her crouch down to make sure, I took her beneath the joints of her shoulders, and carried her back to her bed, I was intent to fling her on it, if she hadn't already caught me somehow and we both landed strangely akimbo upon each other there. She continued to shudder in giggles, and grapple me along my ribcage, making my stirrings rise even further. _God, how I love Her!_ And then I kissed her to express it, and she reacted in kind.

I have mentioned her laughter before, but perhaps it was more of an exhale of titillation as what remained of our underclothes were removed by stretching, ripping and a few awkward, back-handed flings. My fingers coursing up the mid-section of her back, massaging in ways that made her hum; a music of no triviality to the sensations taking place within me from hearing it as I responded in kind. I found my way to reach her folds below, having to push myself in at this mesmerizing angle, half on top, half at her side. She helped by holding my midsection and moving me aloft. The strength in her hands suddenly increased my amourous intentions as we united in these efforts to bond as one.

I brought my hips closer to hers.

We inhaled sharply, exhaled softly, lips still melding, savouring one another, as I stretched her deepness and this passage closed around me, our hands groping on midsections of flesh that remain nameless but are ever erogenous, as we were learning together. Our embrace became tense almost strained as the movements combining and recombining ourselves into one continued and renewed our vigour. She began bending her knees and this impressed me with a change in how she felt, increasing our fervour. I was groped so steadily and lovingly within her. She was mine and I was hers.

The berth of where this love was shared and exchanged was beginning to make sounds that had not happened the night before.

I must wonder why I so seldom had these pieces of furniture replaced after over a century, for at this point, our rollicking ecstasy broke the frame of her sacred bed... Not that we stopped to investigate any trouble. The center had fallen down, and we were depressed within the cage of its physique. The occurrence claimed a unique thrust upon us which brought even further excitement while we proceeded in our bliss. As we collided and punctuated our love, we breathed over one another and convulsed with a lustful happiness. The orange glow of sunset in the room altered to red as this went on, turning into a darkness we coveted along with our possession, our adoration, our knowledge, our oneness.

I continued to express my love on her insides and She advanced herself around me. As she did, she grappled my neck and almost forced me to kiss her, though I was never struggling, I let her invite me there. From where we were, embraced with arms, legs and lower parts between us, we had to endure the fact that… eventually, these springs and furnishings would _definitely_ require a refit.

What I delighted in was that, when I off-handily mentioned this during our love-making, she breathed, between kisses, "Oh, perhaps… even if there are new things applied here, Barnabas… we'll just as soon… break_ them._" Ha! And wouldn't we, though? After all, we were immortal now and would be bound to each other longer than any other couple, and with good purpose: We had a family to watch over. There was no reason to engage in creating one of our own… although, here we were, in the act of _trying_.

I have to say her method before of being on top of me was a vigorous act to follow. There I was, straitening my wrists and keeping myself upright in order to resist totally crushing her, not that she may have minded that. It was difficult though, especially with the way she kept distracting me… wrapping her legs around my tailbone, blemishing my torso with her claws, and as we reached to kiss each other in this… I had the worse difficulty in restraining myself from completing the act… as every man ought to know. I wanted to be sure my darling was satisfied.

Still, She saw this and told me, it was all just as well. There would be other occasions… _Several_ other encounters in which my darling bride and I would consume one another… so… if I needed… I could replete myself into her as many times as I so desired.

_This scared me._

She may out do my stamina if such contemplation kept up between us.

And… she saw this… and… she smiled devilishly. Again, I was afraid of her… but _delightfully_ afraid.

Now it _would_ be finished, for she softly scratched along my arms, enticing me with needle-like droplets running along nerve endings I never knew I possessed. Then She raised her legs higher and higher, until her feet were over my shoulders. So much more of herself surrounded me in my penetration of her and I was entranced by her marvels, not just inside but out. Oh, Josette, _my, Josette,_ how could you know all of this? To give me so much pleasure? I allowed myself one kiss at her ankle to express this gratitude.

How one could go deeper into any woman, I may never know, _nor_ do I wish to.

All I know is that it was over before I could even blink and again she saw in me the foolishness of the innocent. Yes, I had had one other lover. But my Josette, in this Maggie, had lived three life times and knew more lovers than I. To which I bless her devotedly. I do need such instruction, of course. And… considering my own wedded bliss… I _will_ have that instruction in time…

I was undermined by her and her embrace, letting myself go within her and as I came down to be by her, side by side, she stayed fast to my lips, holding on to any delectation… and… I _let_ Her. I could feel her fingers drift and slide majestically through the filaments of my hair, my spent condition making this all so much more glorious as her lips pressed upon mine.

As we stroked each other in the ruins of her bed… which I _would_ have replaced, of course, we gently laughed, and gently kissed. Pulling away, needing to see her glowing face so close to mine, her smile brought one to me in return. I did love seeing her and watching her brown eyes shine, but with all that had come before, including ourselves, it was a relief when the candles finally flickered down and expired and all we had were the embers of the fire between us.

We were there, in her collapsed bed, not caring, not wondering, just bringing the blankets to cover us in the chill that finally reached us, touching, tender, released of wants and charges, but still feeling of immeasurable bliss with each other, finally having what we'd strived so long to achieve and enact. To be married... to be wed... to be in love... a Heaven, a Haven, an entitlement we wished on all of our loved ones should they be so wise enough to welcome its blessing.

With our foreheads compressed, and our arms around each other, we slept… at last.

* * *

_*whispering* Express yourself, don't repress yourself... express yourself, don't repress yourself, express yourself, don't repress yourself. ;)_


	7. Chapter 7: Other Reactions

_This chapter is from the view of Wadsworth. (Hopefully that won't be an issue for publication either, but if it is I can rework it to hint that it's him instead.) For a while I imagined Wadsworth would pack up and head out at the end of "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows". However, this made Willie Loomis extremely sad, in fact he was crying. (Nope! Can't have that now, can we?)_

_I realized how much Wadsworth was coming to mean to Mr. Loomis. Wadsworth has the aristocratic element of Barnabas Collins, but is a man of service like Willie Loomis. Commonalities abound between Barnabas and Willie in Wadsworth. And besides, after all the good he's been doing for them, Barnabas Collins will be serving him one heck of a pension plan! (Collinsport is a protective place, anyway. Perhaps then those weirdos chasing down Wadsworth's life as Dr. Frank N Furter will finally leave him the ef alone.)_

_I was once asked why more than one servant at The Old House was necessary. I answered, "It's a mansion. There ought to be more than two!" ;)_

* * *

Chapter 7: Other Reactions

As you likely know, considering the long wait my employer, Barnabas Collins, has had in winning the heart of our mademoiselle, there has been much… erm… vigorous activity at The Old House. When Mr. Loomis and I first heard the racket we were certain it was more belated relatives come to haunt the premises. Then we heard what we were sure were voices we already knew… in ways we hadn't quite heard them before.

We listened at the stairs and then had some blemishing to do ourselves. I stepped to the door, intending to explore the old shed Ben Stokes of long ago had left in apt condition.

"Mr. Loomis," I said, "do you recall how to play Backgammon?"

He quickly followed me with the embarrassed but eager words, "I dunno and I don't care. Just show me how, an' I'll get the jist of it soon enough."

So, one can imagine that he's become quite proficient at the game of Backgammon what with all of the new ruckus going on lately. Many a long evening, or afternoon has been studious spent on the enjoyment of such trifles. It also helped to give me a good history of how battered Mr. Loomis had been before I arrived. There were times I was shaken to my foundations to hear what he'd suffered. Then I'd calm down remembering all he and I had been through. I could also smile again when I recalled the reason we had left The Old House, and the deep enjoyment our married couple were sharing at last.

One evening, the good doctor stepped toward us as we had just exited the front doors.

"Where are you two off to?" She asked, not so interrogatory as in previous years, though seeing our faces, she did have a more stolid curiousity than usual.

"Well, Doctor Hoffman," Mr. Loomis stammered, "we've been takin' to playin' a lot of Backgammon in the old shed lately and were just going off there again. Want to, um… well, join us?"

"No, thank you," she answered, "I wanted to see—"

"Oh, well," I interrupted, blocking the door. She interposed that familiar look of suspicion I'd gotten so used to in earlier days, "Now is not the best time, I believe."

"Oh?" she asked, lengthening the word, "what are you two hiding from me?"

"Heh! Nothing," said Mr. Loomis, "it's more like what we're hiding out from!"

"Well," she asked, folding her arms and raising her chin with that penetrating gaze of hers, "there is something that's unnerved you two and I aim to…"

That was when a sharp cry came from an upstairs window.

"What in heavens was THAT?" she demanded, dropping her arms and looking up in attempt to locate the calamity.

"Well… ya… ya see, Doctor Hoffman," answered Mr. Loomis, "they're kind of busy."

"What? Have those two got some poor victim up there or something? Who are they after?"

"Each other," I said, at last.

"Oh… oh? Oh!" said our doctor, beginning a long nod and then an incredulous peer, placing and impatient hand on her waist, "oh, good lord… AGAIN?"

"Yep!" nodded Mr. Loomis, a smirk cast on his visage.

Doctor Hoffman sighed in exasperation, "I know it's been a long time for him but this is _ridiculous!_ When are they going to leave each other alone?"

"Heh," laughed Mr. Loomis, "maybe we should purchase some cows so they can come home."

Doctor Hoffman scoffed, "Sheesh! And I thought the Professor was repressed the way he's been pawing ME! Not that I mind… wait… forget I said that."

"We WILL," I answered, "besides, Mr. Collins isn't the one who's always making the advances."

"You mean… it's HER? Is she trying to _wreck_ the old man or what? I must say I'm thankful that I'm NOT a gynecologist!"

"A what?" Mr. Loomis inquired, not hearing.

"It doesn't matter," Doctor Hoffman exhaled, "Still, why always at night? If they're worried about getting sunburned in their oddly immortal condition why not do this kind of thing during the day?"

"The cellar isn't exactly the most romantic place in the world… especially for her." I answered.

"Tell me about it!" Mr. Loomis echoed the sentiment.

"Well, can't they get lead curtains or something?" she suggested, impatiently.

"Oh, yes, Madam," I said, "I've already ordered some darker ones, at least."

"Good! I hope David hasn't been over to hear any of that noise." She stated.

"Well," Mr. Loomis chuckled, "he just thought they was jumping around on the furniture and I have to tell ya, I wasn't about to correct the fella."

"Trust you for that, Willie!" said the doctor, "I just don't understand where she's gets such an appetite for all of it."

"Perhaps because she's young?" I suggested.

"P'sh!" she responded, "or it's her previous life as a man getting mixed up with her feminine desire and taking a sky rocket through exploration."

"Are you going to prescribe a sedative?" I asked, which was likely more sarcastic than I proposed to say it.

"Hardly," she answered, annoyed, "they have GOT to run out of steam on this insanity."

"Why?" I asked, "don't you find it healthy?" I inquired.

"Healthy once in a while, heck even twice a day in some cases, but it's as if every time I come over to see either of them… they're always up there going _at_ it!"

"Wanna leave a note?" Mr. Loomis giggled.

"What? Another one?" she asked, "No. _And_ I doubt I could send a letter. I don't believe the postman comes by anymore after hearing that racket."

We stood around in the semi-silence, trying to pretend we heard nothing, even at that distance.

"So, how about it, Doctor Hoffman?" Mr. Loomis asked, "want to join in for a game of Backgammon?"

She sighed heavily and then straitened up, "You know? How about we go into town and I buy you gentlemen a beer or two. Then you can buy me something in kind. Sound like a plan?"

"Most agreeable, Madam."

"Sure, I'm game," said Mr. Loomis.

* * *

_As this is a series of vignette style glimpses in what "happily ever after", or "relative contentment" might mean for the wedded couple at The Old House, this came out in some amused wondering of what those outside the relationship might experience. They'd likely be overhearing a couple exploring their two-century-long repression with each other._

_And so, a certain amount of bemused commentary would be welcome. ^_^_


	8. Chapter 8: The Whom of Many

_Again, I found upon re-reading this one there are only veiled hints, so it seems to pass for the T rating._

_*.*.*.*.*.*_

_I would like to express that I knew about how heavily Julia/Barnabas stories are desired, though perhaps even more strongly than I predicted. For any past readers or listeners to "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" I was as careful as I could be with Julia, as well as in this story._

_On Dark Shadows I have never seen Barnabas make a pass at Julia except to toy with her affections, which of course I didn't like. Later on there were musings they married but this was never aired on television, which I try to stick with._

_I also did not like that Dr. Julia Hoffman would be playing 2nd fiddle as a romantic option to Barnabas. I felt she deserved someone who would make her the leading role in his life, so I chose someone of an academic variety that I felt would suit her better. I hope that assuages any quick assumptions. (And I'm not all that fond of her personal experiments going foul on DS either. I felt her character deserved better than that.)_

* * *

Chapter 8: The Whom of Many

As I've allowed to express the experience of this strange and unique plight in my love-life, I must again analyze its insistent confusion of fate. What She was, what We are, has left a craving in me to explain the tale. Perhaps more for myself than for anyone else.

You might understand, or perhaps defer to reference, that this woman of whom I love so intensely, is not simply a single woman unto herself. She is at least three, and I have "known" them. So I must explain that **one** in between. THAT was the one who made it all clear. Kitty Soames, or Lady Hampshire.

She was, sadly, the obvious crux in this entire escapade of my love for the original that flew off the cliff so many years ago. Why my Kitty felt compelled to drink of poison, as my mother had done, still escapes me with a wet-eyed glow of compassion. And confusion. However, it is likely her own confusion of knowing so well who she had been and what had become of us that makes this tale a needed one. As my father-in-law has said, there must have been some reason she continued to try and return to me through the centuries. And I in my singular life, as long as it is, can only wonder at the misery I've put my darling through. As grateful as I am at the result.

Kitty, was, indeed, so tightly bound in her corsets as to be almost waif-like. And it pained me to see my Josette in such a state. But likely worse, to see her still crying out to me, still searching to find me, and I am ashamed as such in my attempts to let her go, but not being able to. And in that magnificent dress, she was truly the purple rose of my longing.

Had I known of her existence when I awoke in this time, perhaps I may have been less diabolical in my plans. Though, how one can be so calculating after so much time had passed, with I in this new time period, does assuage some guilt in my terrible actions.

Kitty, my beauty, for who I both mourn and am grateful to have again in this Margaret, dazzles my interest. And if it were not for her, it may not have been so obvious what was happening to us. Something was trying, and when one looks at the chronology of our history, to keep us alive, and to gather us together at that alter of union. And she was brave to come out and say so. Of course it tickles me that she recognized our tormentor, Angelique, and immediately went to throttle the life out of her. For this… Kitty is the name I often use when I see that sweet justice again, in my Maggie.

Of Angelique, I say, that though Josette may have been born to high regard, if anyone has taken the chance to notice, of all the other people with expectations of servants, Josette was the one who treated her like a friend. This makes all that tormenting, both between us, and our families, the worse for it. The one person who wanted to give Angelique the attention she craved, Angelique smote worse than any of the others. And Josette understood, as we all do now, what Angelique's true problem always was: Neglect. Though we hope this can be rectified. There *is* a man who can love her, and it certainly isn't me. Though even with him, she'll have to earn it, and earn it righteously.

Then Kitty took her own life, and as my Maggie has said, it could not be helped, though we still have that longing for Kitty, even now. Though, sometimes when She looks at me, when She speaks with a certain inflection, I know Kitty is there, within her… and when I've engulfed my passion toward her, she tells me she knows, and she _feels_ it. Whether it's a kiss, or whether it is when we imbibe upon each other in that room which belongs to ALL of them, I know she exists. I know she is there, and I know, that all of those three… are **one.**

As for Maggie… who I aim to make right among all of the others, she has told me, in retrospect, just what those night terrors were about.

Oh? You don't remember? The night terrors that sent her screaming out from her own handsome profiled sleep? Those were her evidence of what was to come. The knowledge of all her previous conditions to me, and the future knowledge of the terrible acts I would inflict and forever wish a rotten heart upon myself for. That is the vile aspect of reincarnation… sometimes we not only _know_ what has gone before… but what is… to occur.

The lovely thing of all this is, she knows what ought to be and does it with exquisite divinity. As always, in all her lives, she is not one who likes to idle, and that is the sadness for those who cannot know her. Others see her as sweetness _only_, a trifling happiness and without any complexity. But *I* know better, as do her entourage for which I take up my pen to explain these things.

But what of our Julia? _Poor_ Julia, as some may say. That is something for which I must address because I think so many believe her to be otherwise than I know her.

Dr. Julia Hoffman, must be described above both woman and doctor. And that is the troubling approach in all of this. That people see her only as a woman and _not_ as a doctor, to which she likely has struggled to fight the conventions of her time to prove herself. As I pen these diaries, I have to admit, that her happiness is my happiness, and to see her with that other gentleman is not only a blessing but a fitting condition. You see, as her own previous incarnation with another man… _they_have also returned, to help with the curse they inflicted on my own cousin. And so these things are all working out, as Maggie and Mr. Evans has told us they may.

Julia, has been such a close friend, many would believe her to be my lover. Of course, that is the expectation of the gullible romantic. But Dr. Hoffman is far above this, you must know. And considering how many of the male persuasion in her line of work have shown vaguely superior, it IS an unfairness grotesque to her own ability to decipher problems. They've told me something of this period of time of women's liberation… Well, is it really so liberating when one contemplates only the carnality of a woman? Unfair, **truly** unfair to herself and her profession. And I believe her current paramour knows that… and… so do I.

Thankfully, my own sweet love and my own sweet friend have engaged in a durable bond between each other. Again, I must thank Heaven and Earth when I see these things. Shan't we all be friends, assisting each other, when all is said and done? I do hope so. And you do realize, that if it wasn't for my heroic Julia, I would not finally have the love I so desire now, nor the love that has so desired _me_ through many generations of wearisome attempts.

Unfortunately I cannot continue with this story just yet. My bride is inviting me, with a winsome eye, to her bedroom. And I'm sure she would be fine with enlightening you on the details of that if anyone requests it. And, as I have noted, from my discussions with our friend Julia, she also is dabbling some disclosures behind certain doors. She has done a great deal of studies in the matters of personal pleasure, and what might light a person's fire. _Ah_… that_is_ gratifying.

Well, I must pursue my bride, this beauty… further… and _deeper_ than before perhaps. And for those out there, in their own wedded bliss, you likely understand what we all are going through. Isn't it lovely?

* * *

_And couldn't it be, though? I'm adding this after thought upon further reflection to this explanation and reactions to who I place Julia with in "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows"._

_Considering this type of writing varies toward preference, which includes major changes in the circumstances of each version depending on the writer, I am continually puzzled at the knee jerk reaction that Julia Hoffman's love for Barnabas Collins can never vary or even be excluded entirely._

_What I've discovered about this style of writing is it tends to be about choice of what some people in common want to see. Obviously, the Julia/Barnabas crowd have been so vocal and so militant that there are likely Barnabas/Josette or Barnabas/Maggie stories we're not seeing at all. It makes me wonder if these writers and dreamers that came before me may have been given harsh treatment and are keeping their stories to themselves, which is why I couldn't find them._

_"Forever Mine" with Josette, on this site is in 1795 and a nip in the bud story. (No Julia)_

_"A Third Option" with Maggie is also a nip in the bud story. (Again, No Julia.)_

_My story, combined with this one, is not only Maggie=Josette, but also incorporates Kitty Soames. And all with Julia._

_I care about Julia Hoffman and saw through this absolutism of her being with Barnabas and didn't want her to play a second fiddle role as his choice, but have someone else step in to fall in love with her and not a made up character. I carefully made sure she would have what she needed so that all in my story would be pleased. And considering what a strong woman she is I could see her getting over Barnabas far easier than Barnabas getting over Josette. However there is still that almost involuntary reflex that no universe, however alternate, could exist in which Dr. Hoffman isn't swooning over him. _

_I can already think of 3 different techniques here that would make her not in love with Barnabas and easily placed._

_1) Alternate Universe: Julia simply isn't in love with him._

_2) She cures him, and as her mission is accomplished, she collects her data and goes in search of other vampires to cure._

_3) She simply gets fed up that he's not in love with her and goes off to enjoy the affections of a man who does._

_Why none of these are employed remains a mystery._

_I can also see how Julia fans would be thinking, "Well, gosh she did so much for this guy and why didn't she get him?" But for the most part what I see between the two is Her gripes versus His Gripes. She had to do all of this covering up for him and keep him away from the mini-skirted lasses... (WHY is IT almost no gal on this show wears a pair of PANTS?)_

_So I looked at Julia's worries with her one lifetime then I looked at Barnabas with all his other worldly concerns and likely feeling like a BIG prig after turning into such a monster and having so much that he wanted not only ripped away from him like the worst removed hangnail, but then having to deal with all of these 1960's versions of his previous existence and wondering, "Gosh darn it! I miss that Josette, what if this girl actually WAS her?"_

_So between Julia's one lifetime problems and Barnabas' multiple centuries concerns... I felt... well... he has the *bigger* gripe._

_Take care. :)_


	9. Chapter 9: All of Us

_I have a nagging suspicion this was presumed to be a Collinwood orgy considering the title of the chapter. ;) Ah, well, I'm sure someone could write that. I'm not quite into that 1970's key exchange game, though._

_However, "In The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows", I have found Kitty Soames of 1897 to be a necessity while going down a condensed version of the original Dark Shadows storyline. In my story, Maggie remembers all three lives in chronological order, whereas Barnabas does not. His travels go from 1795, then 1967, and later he reaches 1897. Having Maggie regress into past lives chronologically would make the story work. _

_In "Pit of..." her memory urges that this Barnabas can be forgiven, because she remembers him working for the greater good in 1897, though he hasn't experienced it yet. She knows when that does happen and he returns *that* is the time to allow him absolution. So, the Kitty Soames life time becomes an important point in his gaining that forgiveness. _

_And, as shown here in this tale of their marriage, he succeeds. :)_

* * *

Chapter 9: All of Us

I must say, my dear friends under our employment were rather quick in replacing the wrecked furniture my bride and I had so heedlessly destroyed in the eruption of our long awaited trysting. I do bless them for being so understanding… but then again they are men, I suppose they would have to understand, yes?

Oh, and my damsel does give me the spectacle of how full of fire she can be. I've dwelt in my thoughts on our Aunt Laura and wondering if with how fiery she has been – would all of her husbands know any comparison to this sweet Margaret? I shan't ask them, but merely contemplate.

What my beloved continues to show me is intoxicating. She stirred my blood with her winsome eye as I was detailing the previous considerations you've likely read about. When she calls I come. I make no mistake in eviscerating the casual affairs of our days. The more meticulous affairs we undertook were of my highest delight now. I looked forward to them each night since my rapture began on our wedding day, or perhaps I should say our wedding night.

And her inner astonishment was the sweetest delight later, when she'd curled her fingers over her blushing mouth on the bench beside the sea. I reflected on it often, the beautiful memory, how she clutched at my hand in the thought of that night. She was right... my Josette, my Maggie, she was right. The more we thought about it, the more would come and the more would come, the more we would think of that and continue in this long and unspent adoration. Every quirk in time to graze our fingers to each other's skin, every movement becoming a nerve-ending unexplored or re-explored. How it all stripped me of my inhibitions. With her I had none... not anymore.

This is not to say we would take each other anywhere or on any grounds, but the thought of doing so penetrated our minds. She would turn to me in certain coves and avenues of bracken, smiling, winking, daring with a strange delight, because we knew we would if we really wanted to. And perhaps... someday we will?

Although we do heal quickly, she has made an effort to drink out of as many places as she can from my body. She's told me she never thought she would take to the new creation of herself so well. Does this please me? It surprises me. I could never believe being a vampire, even one with more wholesome intentions could truly be a blessing. To me it had always been a curse to enjoy drinking the life's blood from those around us. But now we don't need much and we are cautious with it.

The jangle of the lock clicked as she turned the key in her door, standing in a pale orange robe and facing me with a mock stare of reprimand.

"Too busy writing, Barnabas?" she prompted, "when you know you should be ready for me... whenever I ask you."

I glimmered in this foolish taunt, "I'm here now... isn't that what you wanted?"

"You know that it was... you know... that it always is," she baited, playfully.

As she drew me in to her embrace, a kiss that had started gentle ensued with a forcefulness I remembered from our first night together. She groped the back of my neck, hooking her fingers up into my scalp which brought those prickles of unknown excitement down my back and through my arms that held her tightly.

All we wore was removed again and the new structure of her bed welcomed us as she drew me forth to rest upon her. Our lips open, tongues tasting in desperation, hands coursing and groping at muscles, fondling parts. Memories of separation bound me even closer.

Turning, I was on my back. She had done her part of guiding me into her... oh, the sweet bliss of Her doing so… raking down her back and resting my hands upon her pelvis to join us in even more smarting movements. Releasing herself from my lips she kissed me along my jaw and cheek, reaching my ear and moving down with a wide mouthed inhale. I did my best to relax and allow her to take what she needed, moaning in both the pleasure and the pain of it.

She inhales through her nose, but does not quit drinking from me and responds with her own gestures below, as well as searing my chest with her fingernails. I'd taken to wrapping my fist around a blanket or pillow. I'm not sure which as my eyes were shut tightly in this exhilaration. She was pulling at me below and consuming me from above.

After all my past tormenting, what a relief it is to see my _own_ blood moisten her lips as she breaks free from my throat, smiling at me before thrusting her kiss on my mouth. I have been learning how to hold back my drinking of her life's blood in all of this intense love, though she still surprises me and makes it all so burdensome to manage. It has just been _too long_ for both of us to contain our desire and she has more than one individual longing for me. That could make things furtherrepressed on her end than on mine, you must allow.

"Oh," I breathed, our undulations continuing, "With what you're doing to me, can you _truly_ have forgiven me?"

"Hmm," she answered, between kisses, "perhaps mostly- but you realize… I _will_ be needing to punish _you_ to get some of my own back."

"Please do," I said, holding her face towards me and pressing my lips over hers repeatedly, "I shall never underestimate you again, my love."

Our lower parts drew away with her change in position, providing a strange relief. Then she drank… from my wrists, from the outer side of my calves, from the side of my stomach, indeed from my own breast.

When she turned and reached to massage my foot, scratching along my leg while feasting on my ankle, I drew myself to delight in the length of her hair, running my fingers through the tresses and softly exploring the form of her back, the beautiful contours of her shoulder blades, the shallow concavity in the lower portion between her sides and then found myself suddenly up on one of these edges. I _must _taste her blood, as I had tasted _my own_ on her lips.

I turned her to face me, she sat as I kneeled. I bent down to bring my fangs into the side of her gorgeous flesh. Josette breathed and moaned excitedly, chaffing behind my ear and along my skull with her nails. And in this action of mine I knew what she'd been trying to do when she drank from me. She was attempting to harness my spirit – to find something in the matrix of our blood wherein our souls could meet… as I was now finding myself do.

I released myself from there and her flesh healed itself. With our heads at the foot of the bed, she was beneath me again and were joined once more, colliding with each other and so enfolded, it finally struck me that not only were my three lovers within her, **_I_**_ was as well_… And overwhelmingly, the four of us were as one… and all erupted upon **ourself** simultaneously… glowing ever afterward in heart and compassion.

...

"And what did you think of that, _mon demón_?"

She wanted me to whisper this time. We had turned to the correct position on her berth. I brought the bed clothes to slip over us. As it draped all our nude repose I felt the tender flesh of her left side, arm, shoulder, neck, reaching to press my lips to her cheek and further to her ear, "Yes, know my heart, my precious bride, know all that I have to give in everything that you've offered to me. I'll never struggle. After all of this, any pain your past needs to provide... will be a luxury. Exonerate me, Josette. Purify my soul."

* * *

_The Kitty Soames encounter of 1897/1795 was so brief I can imagine a 1960's housewife coming home from a tropical vacation only to discover the gorgeous 1897 on Dark Shadows suddenly lambasted with these bizarre Leviathan weirdos. Picture her rushing out in her curlers, hairpins trailing behind, to ask Selma next door what the **heck** is going on?! :S_

_Of course, the teenagers likely knew..._

_Still it is brief. Kitty kept remembering being Josette to the point where she strangled Angelique with a vengeful relapse of judgement, then lost all knowledge again and was embarrassed and shocked. In this way I can see Josette being the kind who *could* attack, so these bedroom vignettes might not be so implausible. _

_Kitty was about to leave to keep from being pulled back into Josette's identity. Somehow she was lured to The Old House and Barnabas knew. Still, Kitty would go from saying yes to no and then finally when Barnabas flat out proposed, she desperately accepted._

_And *again* "Oh, I have to go do this other thing first..." P'shaw! Uh-huh... :/_

_So, Kitty paces in Josette's room, likely biting her fingernails down to the cuticle in anxiety of waiting, suddenly has Josette's wedding dress on, morphs into the portrait, which later Barnabas joins her and then suddenly they're back in 1795 but separated. It's episode 884 & 886. And later on so much teamwork ruined by those pesky Leviathans... _

_And as you likely suspect this already, I think I can safely give away the plan that... well... I have another Doctor lined up for them! :)_


	10. Chapter 10: Prior Disturbances Come

_This chapter begins into the unfortunate delving that Maggie Evans, even as a reincarnation of Josette Dupres, would still have to face the troubles of the kidnapping. So no, not a fairy tale marriage. _

* * *

Chapter 10: Prior Disturbances Come to Haunt

I'd been hoping, strange as it may seem, that my bride Maggie, acceptably proven to be Josette from reincarnation, would have forced the issue that was burdening us both. I had come to this time a broken madman and isolated by one thought: Josette was mine and had been taken from me and through it all she loved me as passionately as I loved her, if not more so.

In 1795 I'd tried to say goodbye to her one last time but she wouldn't accept it. She was letting me create her into the cursed being I'd become, not knowing what that entailed but demanding she didn't care. How I feared those nights but I let her guide me enough to change my mind, even with a sense of guilt. And it didn't turn out as we both had hoped. We had both been thwarted again by half-truths and manipulation.

I believed she died hating me, as I told Ben Stokes. Maggie put me strait on this when I mentioned it to her once. She almost snapped, "I did _not!_ I died in fear and confusion and with plenty of reason to do so," then she quieted down, "but I've always loved you and I always will." Well, my mind was at rest on that point now.

What I could recall of my Josette when I awakened so long later, was a single but tiny point of light, as one might perceive of a single star in the night's sky, or a cell of isolation with the minutest crack to the outside world. Our human instincts call us toward that light however small but with little knowledge of what it is or what it means.

Such were my memories of Josette Dupres and what had happened to us.

Dr. Julia Hoffman entered the room as I sat by the fire one evening. I heard the door shut and my butler asking if, "Madam would like anything for refreshment". She said, "No thank you, that will be all."

Perhaps it was poor manners not to stand and face her but it was known there was a heaviness on my mind. I heard the steps of my old friend, once enemy, carefully tread and take a seat nearby.

She sighed with her usual mournful dreariness when it came to me and my problems, "Barnabas, forgive my stating the obvious, but there's something wrong, isn't there?"

I turned my head slowly towards her. Goodness, even in her concern for me she had a glow of some kind that I'd not noticed before. _Oh, yes._ I think there must be more loving warmth in her recent days then there currently were in mine. Her peering gaze was softer, her skin was smoother, and in general she was happier over all. That lifted my spirits some.

"Julia, did Professor Stokes propose?" I couldn't help but inquire, bleeding some form of delight into this sorrowful evening. She wasn't rejoicing over that question out of nowhere.

"Barnabas Collins, let's stick to the point. As much as it pleases me to finally come here and have a moment with friends... without so much... noise..."

I had to chuckle at this, but lowly, and so did she, smiling and then her expression dropped back to seriousness.

"Barnabas, what's been happening here? I was talking to Maggie and she suddenly dropped her cup on the saucer like she was in another world."

"Yes," I agreed, "a world that you and I _remember_ as well, Julia."

Julia stiffened as though to defend herself, then dropped her gaze into her tweed skirted lap along with her soften fist, "I must have been almost as mad as you to cover up her kidnapping the way I did. If I had known-"

"What's past is past, Doctor," I interrupted; "Now we have to deal with what's to come."

"And what would that be, Barnabas? I've talked to her and I've let her get some things out of her system, but I don't think that's enough."

I took a breath, "She's only punished me with passion... not with anger. This worries me. She needs to punish me."

Julia began one of those confused short gasps of hers, "Wel—well... _punish_ you? Are you _serious_? How do you propose she punish you? How is that going to solve anything?"

"It would set her free. She could physically know I was bound to her, that I'd do anything, be anything, go through anything..."

"Haven't you done that enough already?" Julia sounded annoyed.

"Not enough for her. I kidnapped her, I harmed her. I knew what I was doing and yet I had no idea what was going on within myself or within her."

"You... you _want_ to be punished by her, Barnabas?" she slowly struggled to suggest.

"I have to be, Julia. And by _her_ which by no other can I accept it. It's not like other times. I love her."

Julia Hoffman rose from her seat and spread her hands down to straighten the clothing on her, "Now I understand why Sarah's ghost hasn't been here as often. I see her sometimes at the Main House. I'm worried she'll be fading away again, too."

That was a sour point with me also. Sarah had come back once, and come back again, and had to return for our wedding, which I would have no other way. But the spirits were calling her to more peaceful ventures now that she had absolved the past pains between her and myself as well as who I'd unfortunately troubled. I'm not sure I would worry so much for her overhearing any noises upstairs. She likely heard them before in our old days and understood them. But that was a habit we had and my dear sister had more pleasure spending time with David along with everyone else who had come to accept her.

"Sarah could be fading away entirely, Julia. It's what I fear, but it also gives me hope knowing she's forgiven me, too."

"Well," Julia professed, stepping closer and I finally stood to face her, "as _for_ your loving bride I'm not sure there is much I can do. Perhaps something is coming out of her that she can extrapolate into whatever punishment to _you_ you seem to believe is so damn necessary."

"Isn't it?" I asked, head turning slightly, "doesn't your doctorate tell you there is a need to let it out for her?"

"Well, yes, but I'm not sure violence on _you_ is the answer, is it?" Julia was grappling with the troubles again.

I nodded grimly, "It is, I believe. Maggie needs to act it out and I need to suffer it."

Another deep breath from my friend, rubbing her neck and releasing her shoulders, "All right... I'll wonder at how I helped you by coming all the way over here, though."

I took her by the arms and she stopped with a deep stare at me, "By listening, Dr. Julia Hoffman, if you remember, that was half of your purpose in getting your degree, wasn't it?"

Then she gave a surrendering smile and I kissed her on the forehead. We embraced and she gave me a warm clap on the back, "Good luck," she said and pulled away to step to the door, "But whatever happens, Barnabas... I'm not sure I'll want to hear about _that._"

This was good natured of her, I could see her laughing eyes as I closed the door behind her.

* * *

_Yes, there is trouble in Paradise and there always is... It's going to be a long haul. Let me know if you want it posted quicker and I'll do what I can._


	11. Chapter 11: A Tender Retreat

_Special thanks to Mad Margaret and Helena Clara Bouchet for reminding me what Barnabas actually did as punishment to Maggie. He threatened it so repeatedly I began getting lost to what he'd finally done at the time. To this day I am still shocked that all of this made it past the censors in the 1960's._

* * *

Chapter 11: A Tender Retreat

The darkness crept into my marriage with Barnabas earlier than I expected. There were so many lovely spots in the house. My room especially had become sacred when I'd known it to be a prison once. That may have been the easiest and why I came upon him so voraciously. It was the place that I wanted to create our first bond to wipe out the terror of all that had come. But darker regions were haunting me with no loving memories. I took many of these fears with me to consider at Widows Hill. I think I kept returning there as a reminder of what I'd earned from so much loss. Sometimes I'd gaze into the ocean, other times I would sit and stare at my rings, the wedding band of blended silver and gold, the engagement ring, knowing it was the one I was after ever so long ago. But it didn't derail the actions of the kidnapping, and all the torment he inflicted on me then.

Such tangible items of bliss weren't helping as much as they once did. My expression would hang as I went into the lower regions of the house, saw the places I'd been locked away and felt a growing need to repeal my presence there. Throttled, thrashed, threatened, hurt. One man had done these things to me, and that was the one man to which I was devotedly married to now.

We still took our hand-held walks, we still smiled, but he knew, Barnabas knew. We'd ventured to the mausoleum once more and I tried to consider that secret room again as I did the day after we were married. I pulled the cord from the lion's head on my own, believing we could find our way to cleanse that place.

The stone door swung open with that gravelly noise. We stepped down. His old coffin was in there now. The coffin he'd placed me in as punishment for disobeying him. As soon as the panel shut a dread washed through me and a shallow darkness was what I saw; him closing the coffin lid over me to punish me for not becoming his Josette... _as we never understood... I already was._

Barnabas had gone to light a candle but threw himself toward me when he noticed what had happened. I sat on the steps, slapping the stone panel with my hands, caught in that same horror, _screaming_ to be let out, to be released...

"Maggie," he said, gently, "my dearest, come back to me. You're safe. Nothing can harm you now." His arms were tenderly holding me as I clung to the spot, and I was snapping through the memories of being here and searching for a way out. Then I looked at his face, at first a comfort, then my hunger for his blood was anything but a yearning for his love. I was overtaken with a hasty zest for revenge. A horrified look came across his face. He drew back, almost knocking over the tall candelabra as I was up and lunging for him.

He was stepping away from me, hands beginning to rise in defence when suddenly he blinked and dropped them, a kindness melting away the fear. Then he opened his arms, slowly bringing them out and forward in a gesture that said, _Take me_, and that's when I could see what I was doing. My fury began to calm, and instead of attacking him, I took him in his embrace. Then I began to tremble.

Barnabas stroked my hair, mild in manner and gently spoken, "It's coming, isn't it, Maggie? You need to let it out someday... soon. Perhaps... Julia-"

"No..." I said, shivering in a whimper, "No more hypnosis. No more talking. I've been through too much of all of that. I need something else and I'm not sure what it is."

"Neither am I," he acquiesced. "Perhaps you could do something _to_ me. If there is any treachery I might suffer for what I've done to you I will allow for it, even welcome it. You know that."

"How can I do that?" I inquired, shakily, "Now that I love you so dearly? Now that I finally have you after everything else?"

Moving us to face each other and fingering my chin to look into his hazel eyes, he explained, his words echoing in those stony quarters, "Because you need to, and in order to love yourself; All that is there, all of what you are. You'll never be simply Josette to me, Maggie. Not any longer. You've come too far to ever be Josette all alone," His eyes, which were once so hypnotizing to draw me towards him unwillingly, now showed a love that melted me inside. The rage had been cooled. I was softened, but how long would it last?

* * *

That night we lay in bed, a time of wakefulness for us but I was drowning in the pain and he saw that. We had on our nightwear and the bedclothes over us and he began shuddering to kiss me as our feet shifted to search each other out.

"Maggie," he comforted, "how do you feel? Are you afraid of me? Please don't be afraid of me. I promise you I've changed."

I drew in his kiss and pulled back, "I know, but the hurt still lingers."

"Is there anything I can do? Anything I can endure for you... my darling?"

I blinked at the chestnut hues of his look towards me, "Please," I said, "make love to me... and make it very slow and very gentle... let me be with you... let me think about you... and... us."

He smiled with a simple dazzle of small pleasure, stroking my face with the back of his fingers and coursing them down from my jaw to my neck and clavicle, "You want me to do that? I have a strong urge, and **_I_** want _you_... but are you sure?"

"Yes, and Barnabas? Please draw from me, try and understand what I'm going through. I can't explain it."

He pressed his lips to my chest, my sternum, bringing himself over me and I welcomed it, carefully, as he led himself into me. I was afraid, but less than I would have been to deny this to him or myself. He pushed with a precise gentleness and my folds released to surround him. My hips rocked in time with his and our intercourse of face was ever present in the profound need of what was so difficult to understand. I loved him and he loved me... but something was marring that love and it was our past together.

Moving up my scant night-dress, he reached his hand to my ribs and mildly clasped my breast as I inhaled with the surge it gave me. He continued to advance his way through to my core. Slipping through, sliding out. And I still loved him... but I remembered, and I was fearful and angry at that. As he pressed into me and I welcomed it, I thought, "Can't this all go away? Can't we be in love and forget or at least forgive?" No... no... Barnabas was right... what I needed to come to terms with was preordained and he knew it.

I took his neck and shoulders, resting my arms around them as we continued kissing, progressing our love in the longing together that what was happening simply would. It simply ought _not_ to happen... but it would. And we pressed our lips in the sadness that this was happening... as we knew... it would. Our cheeks stroked each other and our tears finally met. No... this was meant to be... and we would have to live through it.

* * *

Times went by in which I had to sit alone. The bond that was growing, the thoughts I could hear from his mind were beginning to fade and the more we were separated, the more the fear of him and the angered confusion at him preyed on me. I recall Barnabas coming to look for me in the woods and he found me. Something in his expression... about to call out to me, but then noticed my puzzling and my hurt. Resigning himself to my need to be alone he would wander away again, long dark coat wavering as he stepped from me.

Days and nights seemed to grow and stretch out. The flashes of remembrance shaking me. Barnabas' hands around my throat, shoving me down in my room, intimidating me in his madness. One night I found an injured wolf in these woods, suffering like me, but with broken bones rather than a breaking heart. And I did the only thing I could do in my thirst and spared him his life. Then I petted his coat, softened by the strange mist of the sea and kissed his head as he shut his eyes to journey into that other world I'd known so many times before.

I knelt there looking at the relieved form of this lone wolf, his salt and pepper coat, and his last breath. I gathered his hunger from the blood I'd taken from his throat. It sobered me some and brought certain necessities of this life to light for me. The new nourishment gave me strength to do what I needed to do, but who would I share this need with?

"Willie..." I declared softly, coming to the realization as I spoke his name, "Yes... Willie."

As I stepped into The Old House I saw my husband asleep in his chair by the fire, fingers clasped together over his chest and his elbows resting on the arms of it. Fighting the urge to seize by the fistful, I let my fingers weave through his hair, gently stirring him. He looked up with that echo of sadness I knew from his sickbed so long ago. My memories as Josette giving pity to him for what was happening.

"Dearest," he murmured, "bless you... you haven't touched me for days."

"I touch you... where we sleep," I told him, bending his elbow on the arm of the chair as I slid my hand from his shoulder down his arm, our hands clasping as I stood over him.

"Yes," he sighed, softly, "and yet... your lips give me sorrow and your embrace has been so restive."

"No," I said, "not restive. Perhaps placid at times..." I refuted, mildly.

"Tender enough, I know you've been unhappy. Contemplative. Can I help in _any_ way?"

"Yes," I nodded once, "live through it... with me."

"For you? Always," he promised, kissing my hand.

"Where's Willie?" I inquired.

"I believe he's upstairs in his room. He has some new design work he was rather engrossed with but that intensity may have passed," answered Barnabas.

"Good, I need to speak with him."

"Any reason?" he asked me, a little concerned.

"Yes," I said, letting go of his hand and reaching the railing, "a very, very large one."

* * *

_Again, another chapter I hadn't anticipated. My original draft of this novel was simply erotica. Now it seems to be melding into an actual story of healing wounds and excavating the method of how to go about that. I see the authenticity here, which is important. It is passionately ever after, but delving into the pain also needs to happen. I believe this is why many non-fans of the idea might presume a story about it would entail Maggie magically forgetting all the hurt. No. She wouldn't._


	12. Chapter 12: Willie Wounds

_This came out of some re-investigating I did on Willie Loomis' experience trying to warn Maggie Evans in "Dark Shadows". If anyone recalls, he was worried for her safety and ran to the Evans Cottage to warn her. As a result he was shot by the police who lay in waiting to discover her kidnapper. (And shot at least five times. Yikes!) He was in the hospital quite a while from these injuries before moving on to Wyndcliff Sanitarium. When he returned on the original program, to my knowledge, it was never discussed. This was why in my story "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" I addressed that between Willie and Barnabas. Both that scene and this one have been a struggle to unravel. Would enjoy some perspective on it. Thanks._

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Chapter 12: Willies Wounds

I was coming to terms with the unfortunate factor in this life that Barnabas had committed dreadful crimes due to what became of him. When I remembered everything and more was explained to me by Pop I blamed the source for it all: Angelique Bouchard. It was a better situation to consider that way. Still, I knew the anger and resentment would come out. I was yearning to release that in some way if I could as inside it was beginning to mar the happiness in my marriage and the worry that I couldn't face that was something Barnabas had been deeply concerned about as well.

I heard the shuffling of steps as I knocked on the door. Willie opened it looking like he half expected someone else, that curiousity in his face lightening as he recognized mine.

"Maggie?" he asked, "it's good to see you. You've been alone so much I was gettin' a little worried about'cha."

"It's a long story, and likely one you know about, Willie. May I come in?"

"... sure! Sure..., just have a seat here. Mind if I sit on the bed? My backside is sore from the harder chair."

I sat, "Oh... Lie _down_ on the bed for all I care, Willie. We aren't strangers here, are we? We're family."

He snickered in his usual way, "Of course, of course... perhaps I'll just lounge back on the headboard." Then he lifted the pillow to brace his back against said headboard, and not much of a headboard, truth be told. "Now, y'look like you wanted to tell me something."

"More ask you, Willie. I... well, I've been by myself so much because of what happened between the three of us... you know... when I was kidnapped."

Willie blew a breath of air out, "Ohhh, boy. I was surprised that didn't come up before you to got married... well, I guess it did, but... not... like this?"

"No, Willie... not like this. I've been re-living it. At first it was in flashes and now we're getting distant, or I am, or I don't know. Barnabas wants me to be angry at him and I have been. But then he's so kind when I am I don't know how to let it out. I was hoping I could ask you about what happened to you... you know... when you went away after trying to rescue me from his idea of...of..."

"Of killin' ya, do you mean?" Willie finally ventured.

"Yes... and _you_ were gone such a long time, and you'd been hurt so badly... on my account."

Willie Loomis crossed his arms, holding his elbows in his hands and leaning his head back, his eyes closing half-way, "Ya mean... while I was gone? Ya know... it was more of a dream in some ways, Maggie. Maybe I was so pumped full of medicine for the pain... y'know, them taking the bullets out of me... I gotta hard time figurin' out what really happened. I don't like to think of that, really... so can I tell ya about a bettah part of it?"

"Yes," I said, "tell me anything about it. I just need to think about you're being in the hospital and at Wyndcliff and why you were there."

When Willie Loomis explained to me the dream he had, I feel I cannot express it in his words, which are usually small and adequate, but hard to translate to anyone later.

What Willie told me was both tangibly erotic and horrifically sensual. He hadn't told it to any of the staff at the sanatorium. Why would anyone want to tell this to a working professional? One would rather tell of this to a friend. And such, I suppose, I would be. After all, it was an odd predicament we found ourselves in now. Once upon a time I had been the kidnapped Maggie Evans, hypnotized into being a poor representation of Josette Dupres. I had almost no recollection of that life in 1795 and, as my husband continues to mourn, the keys to who I was then were limited to him as well.

But what all this did for Willie Loomis provided a duality of the pathetic and strange. He'd shown himself as the likely side-car of Jason McGuire's despicable treachery. But then he became a victim to Barnabas' madness and his curse, as I did later on. It was why I came to ask him what he went through at the hospital and at Wyndcliff.

As we sat in his shabby quarters, of which I kept suggesting be changed and he insisted not, Willie Loomis explained to me, shakily, what happened when he was moved from the hospital to the sanitarium, a place we both knew well.

Perhaps it was a drug induced stupor that caused him to imagine this, or the shock of all he'd gone through. But that nurse, was as kind as any could be, from what he told me. This is why I've made the effort to reach out to her for his sake. And from what I've gathered, she's not taken undue notice toward him. He wasn't making up any flicker or gleam between them. But still, what he described terrified me. For all that, his wounds had been on my account.

My fear comes from what he said; he isn't sure if it was a dream or not. But the risk of infection on such a plight would be a concern, especially by one in the medical profession, which is without any doubt… her. He had to remain on his stomach many long days and nights to heal from bullets so pummeled into him… and, as he said, there were doors opening and shutting, lights flickering, darkness and shadow, the inability to know the difference between day and night, and for some reason, not a clock in the room that he could see.

Still, he did heal… but as he healed… something slowly took place, in arcs of time he had to cobble together in the end, so that it was like a long string of images that came in sync to form a single fantasy that fed the psyche into a shorter span of time, as he fumblingly expressed it later.

It was a moistness on his back… a warm moistness. A smooth probing that awoke him in the half light, a kissing sensation that poured over him, as a soft hand gently stroked the back of his head and neck. I could not ask him if it really was truly a dream to him. I could only pray that it was not. Some_thing_ or some_one_ was genuinely trying to sooth him, and I thanked heaven for it, even it was only an inner realm of his subconscious.

It had to be a woman, the lightness of breath that he described, the slimness of touch, the echo of sweet lips upon his ears. It stimulated him in all his uncertain mobility. It had to be more than kissing she did, as he had to describe to me that thick moistness trailing along his spine, warm but not watery, with the coolness that comes later when the air slowly moves over each damp area. Again, from what he was telling me, could it really be a dream? And wasn't this someone that had spent so much time with him? That discussed her smaller interests? That was so pleasant to us when we came looking for him?

She could hardly massage his back, as it was so tormented with the muscle splitting damage, torn skin and the metal that had to be removed… but _She… _according to what he experienced, or perhaps only dreamed, so lightly suckled and licked on those areas, something loving and painfully sweet. Someone, who'd known him and wanted to know him more… someone who tried to face him in the dark, but whose face he could barely make out in this memory of it now.

"Did she never kiss you, Willie?" I asked, "Didn't she speak to you, or look into your face?"

"Ya know," he answered slowly, "I thought she had… but then, I thought I felt I was… on her… and it must'a just been the bed itself."

"That's all right," I told him, "Willie, just tell me… did you try and touch… _her?_"

He did. He was certain she knelt to face him and he'd slipped his fingers along her jawline and they tenderly kissed. Then the way he described her lips, full and soft and almost candied, wasn't what I expected. Something just too vivid to be a dream.

That's when I knew, I _had_ to find her and bring her here. His own description was too visceral, even for him, that **that** particular piece of the puzzle was only a fantasy to him? It must have happened. And then I remembered that old Willie Loomis… the mean and cruel imbecile that once snorted out insults and made improper passes at us all.

Did we ever give him credit for being able to change? And what had changed him? It was something terrible, I know, and hard to understand how something so awful, as his helplessness could alter that behaviour. Or was it also having to change who he was _around_ most of the time? Still, when I sat, listening to him, and comparing the two, there seemed such a stark difference. I'd think of one as brusque and unfeeling as a lover, not delicate in his attempt to caress another as he was describing.

"You… you… you don't mind that I'm tellin' you all this, do ya?" he suddenly asked. I hadn't realized we'd both been silent for over a minute.

"No, no," I answered quickly, "I understand. There are always times that you want to make sure you're not imagining things… or trying to decide what was real and what wasn't."

"Do… do ya think, it… could have happened, Maggie?"

"Anything is possible… especially around here, you know. But when it comes to that… are you sure it wasn't only her cleaning you with a warm rag on your back?"

He had that usual quiet snicker, looking down, "Maggie… wash rags don't exactly pucker, do they?"

"True… but, I suppose I've got to wonder how _you_ felt about it. Were you shocked? Or…?"

"I hafta tell ya… I got the chills, but… you know… the surprised kind… and then… the good kind."

I had to softly smile at this. Something in such a situation, that could be creepy on one hand, and beautiful on the other, seemed to fit Mr. Loomis. It had to be so beyond his experience. I found myself very grateful that in all that time someone had taken his pathetic form to her heart and perhaps could build his confidence, which he needed very carefully built up. Carefully, because I remember the cocky, un-sober Willie Loomis who was indifferent to the truth, as long as he could get something expensive out of it. I had no desire to see that man again. Who he was exploring himself to be, someone deeper, and thoughtful, was who I wanted to see, and when it came down to it, so did everyone else in a way. Who could object to such a gentle man, if indeed he _could_ be in the end?

"Willie," I asked, "you sound so unsure where this took place. Could it have actually been the sanitarium?"

"A'course it could… _if_ it happened, Maggie… like I said, everything is such a blur… except how she touched me… _j-u-s-t_ the way she pressed her lips on my back… ran her fingers through my hair… and…" he faltered.

"And what? Her shadow?" I asked.

"That's not the right word for it… I think… I think," he sighed, trying to come up with it.

I waited.

"The one thing… stronger than anything else I can remember about it." His eyes had been open but they closed now, lost in the thought.

"Yes?"

"Was… her… silhouette."

* * *

We had sat there for several minutes, or perhaps only one. He was so mesmerized and I welcomed this change in him. Perhaps... all this happening was the right thing... or... No. It could make beautiful things happen, of course, but that wasn't what I came here to reflect. The bullets, the pain, the change, and how much Willie Loomis had done for the both of us, for all of us.

My heart, now circulating the blood of the beast I'd swallowed, gave me darker thoughts. Something passionate but still angry, and more angry than having the anxiety of it. I was growing determined.

"Willie," I beckoned him out of his reverie, "would you help me with something?"

"What would that be, Maggie?" he asked.

"Do we have any shackles in the byway of the cellar?"

"What? The chains? What d'yeh need those for?" Willie grew concerned, he uncrossed his ankles, switched his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. His shoes touched the ground.

"Well I don't want anything dirty... wouldn't want my bed filled with filth."

A look of incredulity formed on his face, "Well... I mean, some have been cleaned up enough to look new, but I didn't think they'd been cleaned for... for the purpose of... what is it ya wanna do?"

"Willie, how strong do you think my bed is now?"

He began to peer at me, not sure whether to be shocked or to smile, "Maggie, are you thinking of... chainin' him down?"

"Yes," I nodded, decisively, "I have to do something and he knows it."

Willie eyes widened in a semi-horror, his vest seemed to hang even looser on him as he rested his arms on his knees to face me, "How are you going to do that?"

"Wait until he's asleep," I told him, so flatly I wasn't sure I was feeling anything when I said it.

"Ya... ya... you really want to do that, Maggie?" he quavered.

"Yes, tonight while I'm still so upset. It's been surging on me, Willie. I have to throw all that outrage at him. It's burning me up not to."

Willie leaned back, lapsing his hand back from his knees and pressing them on his waist in some bafflement, "All... alright. I'll get them for you. I'm not sure how you aim to get them fixed up by tonight." He rose and stepped with a heavy tread to his door, but I caught his sleeve before he reached the knob.

"He's resting down stairs. He's very tired over this, I'm sure, fades in and out of consciousness. I'll bring him upstairs when we're done putting it together and let him believe things are better. But can you get something for me afterward?"

"Sure..." he sighed, " what else do you need?"

I tried to catch his eyes so he knew I meant it, "A very large bucket of ice."

What came from his shake of sandy hair and uncertainty could have fooled others as laughter, but it didn't fool me.

"Maggie..." he uttered, "you ain't foolin' around... are ya?"

"No," I said, a cold wrath starting to take over now, "I'm not. And believe me Willie, I'm not only doing this for my sake anymore. I'm doing it for yours, too."

* * *

_Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows notes (which you are welcome to skip) : As my radio drama became less farcical and more of a series with comedic relief while incorporating romance, drama, etc. I knew I was getting closer to bringing Willie Loomis back into the fold. I was afraid to write for him but wasn't sure why. When I delved further into his character he made me realise that not only did I have life experiences close to his but also that I understood almost all of the characters in their troubles and personal afflictions. _

_The more I struggled with bringing him in, the more I cared for him and didn't want to see him harmed. That's when I fell in love with him and with a **thud.** I'd originally left him out to give him a better Collinwood to come back to, but then found myself becoming extremely protective which may very well be something almost no other fan of Mr. Loomis has experienced. (I would be happy to be wrong about this.)_

_If Barnabas and Maggie/Josette have melted the 8 years of ice in my 21 year relationship with my (now) husband, Willie Loomis made the first crack in that ice. __I can safely admit that, yes, Mr. Loomis (& Mr. Karlen) have given us something very precious indeed. Thanks._


	13. Chapter 13: Healing Part 1: Shackled

_I understand this may be a lovely thrill for some but the main purpose is to give authenticity to what Barnabas has to go through in terms of Maggie's kidnapping and her being Josette Dupres. It should provide some startling discoveries. Often I pick up from fans how Josette is lovable but not adequately developed. What with the research I do on Josette Dupres, the more I find good reason for Her to be the woman of his true desire and longing. She has amazing qualities indeed, and blended with the other two characters, performed by the same actress, She shines even brighter. I wanted to see how they would handle this together, and do what they've always done, "Endure". :) Thanks_

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Chapter 13: Healing Part One: Shackled

A tickle along my ribs finally awoke me. Anything I'd worn she must have removed. When I reached my arm down from my head my wrist was yanked back with a rattling and I could feel the sturdy cuff of metal holding me, not tightly but enough to know I wouldn't be going far. I tried to move my feet. Same sensation around my ankles. One sheet covered me but that was being removed from my chest by her silhouette in the dark. Her form and face becoming clearer now that qualms of what was to come began rising from my center.

I knew this would happen to me sooner or later. I'd been hoping it was sooner, but my bride can be very surprising and I'd have her no other way. Perhaps Josette Dupres in her original form would never have been so extreme, but I knew with everything we'd gone through, and what I'd put her through in her other incarnations, I deserved whatever was coming to me and it was worth enduring just to know she was mine and I was hers.

However, I cannot deny I found some thrill here within her room. So many times I'd wanted her back, and promised myself I'd go through whatever torture was necessary to have her again. Now was the time to make good on that promise. And no, it did not remind me whatsoever of times I'd been chained before. Those memories were very far from my mind. What came to me in some slow occurrences were times when I'd kidnapped my poor bride, times we'd gone through together and separated with so much agony. What had I done to her when she'd disobeyed me? I cannot say. I'm sure I could recall it if I tried but it scared me so now to look back on it. Had I been so terrible? Yes I had. Would she return the favour? Oh yes, indeed she would.

"Barnabas...?" I heard her sweet voice call my name. Presumably she was beside me, so I tried to turn, but I barely could. My wrists were held in cuffs and my legs had little give. _"Oh, dear,"_ I thought, _"Josette had requested some very solid craftsmanship on her new bed, didn't she?"_ These fixtures to the woodwork made it quite easy to understand which parts of the furniture held the chains to which she had shackled me. I heard the rattling of the metal as I tried to move. My eyes had not adjusted to the darkness. The fire was in embers and the candles blown out.

"So, my love," I said, "it has come."

"Yes," I could hear her smile from the dark, "any last requests?"

"Please," I uttered, "assure me that the door is locked."

"It is," she said lowly, and then I listened as the padding of her bare footsteps wandered to the door, twisting the handle so that I could hear the metal noises of it stalling as she attempted to open it against the closure. Ah, at least of this I can be thankful.

"Would you like to know what's going to happen? Or would you like to be surprised?" she asked, the softness in her voice creating a strange torment to my soul.

"What do you think I deserve?" I asked her.

"Well," she said, as her footsteps came closer, "that's the question, isn't it? Perhaps knowing will make it worse for you? Or perhaps not knowing exactly what's going on in the dark?"

I heard her feet shift, and then a rustling noise. A hard noise like rocks, or... Next I heard a very light squeak, something heavy being lifted and then put down closer to the bed, the rustling sound again like a bucket being placed on the floor. But a bucket of what?

I saw her silhouette lean down, a red glow from the embers around her. A very light, short nightdress, I believe. Something very sheen and soft. The thought of that comforted me as I lay there prone to suffer. The rustling noise as she reached down into the receptacle did not comfort me. The sound like when we'd shared the hang over cures that one morning ages ago.

_Ice._

"You never did tell me what you were going to do. Remember, Barnabas?" she asked, again, softly, sweetly, with angelic wonder and grace, while plotting such deviltry.

"What..." I faltered, "what did I tell you?"

She knelt before the bed and stroked my face, "You said I would be punished. You repeated it over and over again. It drove me mad. It terrified me. You would never tell me what you would do, but you kept threatening me. That same word: punish." Then she breathed, almost a moan, "Ah, it has made me so sad to remember all of this time."

She glided her fingers over my lips which allowed me to kiss them, my only offering so far, "But tonight?" I asked with trepidation.

"Tonight?" she asked, "no. It certainly doesn't make me sad tonight, _mon demón_."

Automatically I attempted to reach for her with my left hand, there was some allowance of movement but I couldn't do it.

"I see," she told me, "too frightened to move at all. I did provide a little give, Barnabas. You aren't held tightly."

I exhaled gratefully and managed to touch her face. My skin tingled, not in anticipation but in this moment of safety. She hadn't hurt me yet. I tried to maintain a present mind.

"Will it make any difference to you, my love?" I asked.

"Will what, Barnabas?"

"That I'm willing... and... I am waiting..."

"Well," her smile an echo in the shadowy light, taking the back of my hand to her cheek, "some might say it defeats the purpose... but I... understand."

Then she let my hand drop as she stood up, the echo of the chains rattling behind my ear. No power betwixt God or Man could hold me in this grip as I was so held this night before her, my most giving, lovely bride.

She undraped the sheet from my lower half and a chill fell around my helplessness. "Let it come," I prayed, "let me endure what I must... for Her."

She stood above me. A chunk of burning log dropping in the hearth and sparking a semi-light in the dark, giving me a glimpse of her beautiful brown eyes, and her velvet lashes. She just stood there, making me wait in loss and wonderment of her beauty. Her pause stopped my wondering.

"I know it wasn't all your fault," she said taking my hand, "all the terrible things you put me through. But... all our time opposing each other in ignorance, I remember those little portraits."

"Josette," I breathed, not daring to move, "what can you mean?"

"People look at you in your eloquence, in your stolid manner and I admit I do as well. But I know the boy. I know he's in there still. I can look far into the dead centre of your eyes and find him. I know you're scared and I know who you're scared of and what."

"Who?" I asked, confused.

"No one outside this room..." she warned, no longer stabbing the dark with her words, but stabbing me.

"Will nothing tame my Josette?" I spoke, uncertain who I was asking.

"We can only wonder," she said, removing her hand from mine, "As you punished me well enough in the past, I'd have to have something in return for all of that."

I felt her hand course up my leg and fears of castration entered my mind. It wasn't nearly so bad, but she could make me speculate how close she was getting without truly causing any damage. All I could do was lie there, lie there and pray for her tender mercies. I would not object, I deserved whatever my Josette had to give me. She was under no spell but her pride to have won. I could do nothing more but welcome it... and of course... _flinch_.

* * *

_To be continued in Healing Part Two: Punishment..._


	14. Chapter 14: Healing Part 2: Punishment

_Here is the continuation of "Healing Part One: Shackled". Phew! I hope y'all are enjoying this. It's tough, but it's to authenticate the reality of their union. Poor things. :(_

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Chapter 14: Healing Part Two: Punishment

My angry bride, preparing to serve me my just rewards for past monstrosities, worked her lips so close to my ear that her breath formed pulses of strange delight along a line of nerves from beneath my shoulder blade to the small of my back.

"You've begged me before," Maggie apprised, "will you beg me again?"

"Oh," I moaned, carefully, "what do you wish-"

Suddenly she shifted away from me and a riotous splendour of absolute shocking cold gripped my stomach. But she wasn't done. She took the pieces and began spreading them all over me... and she knew just where to put them... the warmest recesses of any human body, first along my chest, under my arms, my neck and then the worst of all, down where my manhood had practically ceased to exist. I made good to breathe achingly not for any dishonest appearance, but because it hurt. She needed to do this, I needed to experience it, but it was no joy except perhaps the end result I longed for, that she would be... free of it.

_Yes, I had spoken the wrong words, as perhaps I needed to for her to challenge me and release herself. She wanted me to plead, to beg. I would._

"I do," I beseeched, shivering "I beg you, please," I reached to gently touch her face now that it was so close, hoping this would be a comfort somehow. Maggie's expression remained neutral from what I could see. She was resolved to have her punishment returned upon me, and likely would be in the future. No anger stirred in me whatsoever. If she felt it was the only way to heal our burdens, after all I'd already done to win her affection to the altar; she was and always will be allowed _more_.

"Forgive me," however much these icicles stung my flesh, my entrails, and my heart, I pleaded to my wounded bride, "I offer the most humble penitence to you. All harm you wish to bestow on me I willingly accept."

She released her hand from moving those frozen pieces inducing me with so much pain, bringing it up to take mine and she kissed my palm. The danger had passed but it didn't concern me and I continued, "Forgive me, my dearest bride, forgive me..."

She let the words come out slowly, "All in good time."

Next she drifted to the embers of the fire and knelt before it, leaving me to wallow in the horrendous chill of the melting ice. It seared over my heart. A thought struck me that perhaps I had the power to warm myself by-

"Don't even think about it." I heard her interrupt. She knew what went through my mind, even now.

She took a poker, rifling at the embers, then began placing some tinder so that the fire would grow. The ice was melting and dripping around me. The only warm part of me may have been my head. My skin stung with the frost and I made good to focus on it, experiencing as much of this horror as I could, loving her that dearly.

I waited breathing and hoping for warmth. The closest I got to that was seeing the light of the fire burn brighter and she knelt before it, placing a log atop the blazing sticks. More kindling went around and over it. She waited for the cut wood to burn.

"Are you cold enough, my dear?"

"Almost... frozen... but" I shivered, "you may... pour on more... if... you... like."

She sighed with mock tiredness, "No... I think not," then she turned her head toward me, "Wait... did I sense disappointment from you?"

"Perhaps," I shuddered, "but we can't believe it could be all finished in a single night."

"I've had my curiousity over that one, but," she faltered, "we'll see how I take to it. The enjoyment is oddly fascinating."

I licked my lips, trying to bring my thoughts out as the icy moisture flowed around me, "I never enjoyed bringing harm to you, Maggie."

"_Didn't you?"_ her words stung.

"No."

She turned away from the fire, moving from her kneel and placing her arms below her upturned knees. The gown she wore was scant that almost all of her silken legs were visible against the varying glints of firelight. She continued to speak softly, "What _did_ you feel, Barnabas? Throttling me? Thrashing me? Threatening me? What made inflicting that on me worth it to you?"

The torture of these words was made worse by the darkness cast over one side of her face, out of touch with the light. Considering whom she was and who she had revealed herself to be made these questions difficult. She was Josette and neither of us knew that at the time I'd been harming her so.

"I was... angry."

"At me? At Willie? At Angelique? Who were you angry with, Barnabas?"

"I hardly remembered Angelique then. I suppose I was angry with the two of you. To me it seemed simple with what powers I could generate. I believe I was angry at the world, at my life, at the confusion. At everything. I was so... enraged to have lost... _you_..."

She breathed slowly, "You certainly had lost me. So much so you could barely recall me either."

"I remembered you more so than any other, my darling." I confessed.

Josette rose and I watched the lace on the bottom of her short nightdress ripple as she walked toward me. As I shuddered and asked myself, _"Am I only shivering at the aching pain surrounding me, or her ability to ensure my total servitude to her?"_

"I'm glad to hear that question," she responded. I'd asked it loudly enough to myself, it made sense that she could locate this curiousity in my mind. The ice was beginning to sear my skin.

A sting threw my face to the left. She had slapped me, _hard_. But still, she had touched me. The feeling was hardly gentle, but...

"Oh, I see," she marvelled, "enjoyed that, did you?"

"Not exactly... although..."

**_SLAP! ...SLAP! ...SLAP!_**

I moaned and wasn't sure if it was agony or ecstasy. Maggie Evans... Josette Dupres... she was having her revenge on me and she was gaining her compensation as well. Exerting what I needed to be forgiven. The blows to my face were at least some small distraction to the icy chill surrounding me. As well as my pride coming up in all of this. Yes. I was proud of her.

I could feel Josette's anger towards me and her love. And in this new bond she noticed that I did and her hand slowly went down to her side at first but then came up and produced one more resounding strike across my face. She had strength and my cheeks burned with that strength. We both took a deep breath together and a deep exhale. I looked at her in loving appreciation, hoping she was sated.

_My sweet angel that I had turned foul... please... let everything out._

* * *

_To be concluded in Healing Part Three: Redemption_


	15. Chapter 15: Healing Part 3: Redemption

_Here's the finale of Healing in three parts. It was all very difficult to come to terms with. I put it off until I was almost done with my first draft of the entire book. I didn't want to put them through it and didn't want to go through it myself, but I knew it was necessary. I was surprised at the result as well. I wasn't sure how she would handle this and was surprised and at what happened. Please leave commentary. Thanks._

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Chapter 15: Healing Part Three: Redemption

My face stung with the strikes across it by Josette's hand. The movements brought a wind that made the icy chill across my naked body even worse. I wondered how long my bride would carry on in this way. Perhaps until dawn. I would take it, though. I would endure anything for her. Yes, I already had her, but I would never take that for granted. I swore that to myself when I married this Maggie Evans, my Josette reborn. I adored her, had been horrible to her. It wasn't entirely my fault, but it was still my crime. I'd won her love and I would go on winning it through time. A marriage renewed again and again is a marriage worth having. _God knows I savoured mine._

Something altered her shadowy expression as I looked up at her. Those dark eyes filled with hunger; a more delicate form of rage. I saw myself in those eyes. It was more than my reflection, it was a parcel of the insanity I'd inflicted on her all those years ago. I watched as the underside of her hand lowered down, losing focus for me. I believed she might smoothly stroke my face. The tips of fingers glided down my chin, the underside of my jaw.

Exhaling was the incorrect thing for me to do in this instance, as to pull in any breath was gone. I tried gasping for it but she pressed her right hand down onto my throat with such extreme force even the slaps and the freezing ice escaped what I was feeling! Involuntarily I choked in a moan and even this was mercy from her, but not for long. She moved her hand only to take a tighter grip with both.

Yes, this was what I had done to her and now she was giving it all back to me. My eyes were shut but I could practically see the malicious disgust on her face. As she gripped my throat so hard, suffocating my lungs her arms began to shake with convulsions that reached me further, rattling my entire frame. I began truly fearing how far she would take this.

Her voice became a whispering growl to my ear, "Do you have any idea how you've **shamed** us all, Barnabas Collins? _Do you?_"

In such a lack of air I couldn't answer but this struck a feeling to my chest harder than the slaps had been. It went to the core of all I was and wanted to be. I felt the tears come to my eyes but I kept them shut. I could not endure to see this contempt for me on her face, the sweetest beauty that ever graced the earth with her spirit, blessing us all, but tormented by all that had happened and so much being my fault.

Josette uttered in this new voice most horrible to me, so much worse than all the previous pain, "_Shame_..."

The tears finally left from my closed lids and poured back. I expected physical harm but this was worse. Her emotions and her words were ever present and would haunt me in throes of misery for many inevitable nightmares to come.

Perhaps she saw the tears or she had told me what she needed to, as I could now gasp in tiny breaths and then in longer ones. I blinked my eyes open, lashes damp with grief. I finally found my voice and her anger calmed, "Yes... yes, my love. I know. I will deny nothing."

Her mouth opened and suddenly she was at my throat again but this time it was to feed and drink what she could with a vengeance. No pleasure could I derive from this experienced having known so many others. The fluid poured from me in my helplessness and the pain of it was like knives. Would she know my current thoughts and feelings in this exchange?

Josette released me and stopped. She swallowed and breathed deeply, strongly, centering herself. Crouching down she picked up something nearby. Then I was surprised to feel a plush cushioning against my skin. It soaked the icy moisture away from my flesh. She was drying me now. _It was Heaven._

As she towelled dry my cold aches and pains, she groped at cubes of ice that had melted down to nodules and dropped them back into the metal bucket. She tended my skin delicately with the cloth and I began to warm again. Then she leaned down and kissed me on the lips. A metal clicking sounded as I reached what I could of her face and hair, trailing all around my head, the smell of it intoxicating me in new ways.

Our lips parted and I gently asked, "Can you ever forgive me?"

Her face softened, "Can you... _bring yourself forth_... for me?"

I sensed a double meaning there, but she lowered her head and spread kisses upon the lower half of my torso, my hands stroking her hair as I lay there docile. I concentrated on the pleasure sweeping away the pain, her face warmed by the fire, her lips pursing their way along my frigid chest, slowly, as she stroked me below to relieve and encourage me, or dare I say inspire me? I leaned myself up to reach her as her mouth met mine and her hand below released from its then gentle manipulation of me.

_You were a gentleman before, and I'll see to it you are one again..._

Suddenly I was haunted by these words she had told me before we were even engaged again to wed in this life. I suppose she was proving it to herself in this way. The force she possessed now thrilled me again. I wanted to embrace her dearly but the chains held me so I could not reach for her. I was desperate to hold her but I knew she must have her way in this. What she was doing to me now enticed me madly as I began to desire her. Perhaps she didn't want me now. Perhaps this was a tease to my affections.

Josette continued to fondle and caress me with her silken fingers and lips. She knew I was ready, but would she have me? I had grown desperate, the blood in me had circulated quickly and her fury ignited a desire to be taken by her, a desire so strong that it surprised me. _Please_, I thought, _let us be united in this._

Her bringing herself over me, a drape of dry bedclothes behind her, her mouth upon mine was the only reassurance. I could only attempt a small lift to incline myself toward this.

The tension flared in our kiss and I'd become so solid that when her womanhood again embraced me beneath the bed linens I tried to pull away in shock from the pain. My arms straitening I fell back to the cushions and lost her kiss. I barely noticed the dampness of the sheets beneath us. The clamps she'd placed on me were producing sweat from my wrists and ankles.

My bride became still, watching me with concern and petting my face kindly. It helped me to notice that the pain of her blows to my cheeks was drifting away. I blinked, and a memory came back when long ago I had whispered, _"Maggie... are you sure about... me?"_

That's when she started moving and I closed my eyes in the sensation of her surrounding me again. The damage to my throat, the biting and strangling faded as the knowledge of her fed back through me. Dare I touch her? Dare I coil my fingers around her lovely parts? I could barely reach her, of course. She increased her position so that I was going further than before, perhaps due to her knees moving up on either side of me and pushing down and away, we both inhaled sharply as she halted, aware of nothing but where we were as matrimonial consorts, as lovers, as friends.

She moved over me so I could finally touch her. My hands went up, chains rattling from the my manacled wrists, sweeping across her bosom to her shoulders and she came down to touch my lips with hers, her arms finding their way around me once more and I moved with her again, within her again.

Then the memory of what I'd asked her long ago came back

_Was she sure?_ She hadn't spoken.

Actions do speak louder than words but then her answer came out, "I've never been surer of anything... in all of my lives. It took me this long to reach you, my dearest."

I came back to the present with this understanding. She was sure.

Then she leaned over me to grab something, of which I do not know and a gentler clinking sound occurred. She separated us and in that renewed loss of bliss I worried more pain would come. "Just welcome it," I told myself, but she'd made me want her so horribly...

One ankle was free of restraint, and then the other as she unlocked the braces at my legs and moved them away. Then she reached for the manacles at my wrists and I was free, but even in my relief I was afraid to move.

I could hear the ropes of metal clink and fall into piles of their own on all four corners of our bed. ... Yes... I was willing to claim this place as ours now. Perhaps I may not always say so, but tonight I felt I had earned to share this room with her.

"Yes, you have," Josette answered, a true woman in charge, "you've been very good, my dear. Very, _very_ good."

I meant to thank her but she straddled me again and this time it was her that looked to be in pain, not that I didn't have my shake from being grappled below, her warmest parts and mine joined once more. Her head leaned back. She pressed her hands on my chest to support herself and I felt a tightness inside her I was unfamiliar with. This experience had increased our devotion, but already?

My arms were released but I was afraid to lift them up to her. She finally began to move above me and breathe with excitement. I reached for her hands on my chest and turned hers to embrace them, moving with so much passion I feared I'd let myself go at any moment if either of us weren't careful. Josette's torment to Kitty's sacrifice to Maggie's pain had finally evolved for me a vengeful lust, and I was positive she could complete it for herself.

The minutes passed in this new exhilaration as she glided back and forth above me, taking complete control as she needed to compel me with. I needed this as well. The grip of our hands became tighter upon my sternum. Then a warm moisture splashed to my hands.

_No-o-o..._ No, _not now_, she was so close. She can't break down now, but she had. Her sobs were echoing in the stillness of our unity.

_"W-h-y?"_ she asked, her voice melting with the tears that dripped down her cheeks.

I released my hands from hers to take her by the arms and we moved to face each other side by side, releasing our parts again below. I kept the bedclothes wrapped over us. Perhaps that would help. I stroked the top of her head and down her silken hair.

"Margaret Josette Dupres? What harms you now? Please, do whatever you want to me, whatever helps."

She continued to cry, shaking, exhaling and then inhaling to gulp down the tears, "Why... did... all of these things... happen to us?"

Here was a question no one could answer. The realm of all existence lay on this inquiry. The depths of our persona were created in all of these horrible actions and how we dealt with their results. Her question, especially as Josette Dupres, struggling through new lives to reach me, was the necessary person beyond any other to seek these answers. But the power of her anger to seek vengeance on me wielded itself into the power of her grief to the necessity of doing so.

"Don't be sorry, my dearest," I consoled her as we lay side by side. I placed her palm along the left portion of my chest, "feel my heart. Just feel it. And cry or scream, harm me or love me, call me your demon. Do what you will... as long as we belong to each other... That's all that matters to me."

Her tears cleared as she stared at her hand over my heart. She sniffed and looked up at me, eyes flitting back and forth in a smile that crept up. How I adored those eyes. I always knew it was her when they moved like that. And she was right. Third time _is_ the charm and Maggie Evans had guided her lives to this, along with the rest of us. If only I'd known how to uncover that when I first saw her, shorter of skirt, startled at first, but willing to keep me company over a cup of no fancy brew. (Strong as it could be.) Always as giving as my Josette was and as, my Josette, she still is.

I looked into her eyes and thought of that night. There we were again in that bed but sharing that memory at the table she waited on. Sitting side by side once more in total ignorance that we'd met again. We thought of that together as we lay there, the dampness beneath me on the sheets, the dampness on my thumb as it slid across her cheek. All the turmoil we'd suffered and here we were, our passion having been so strong, now our love was made that much stronger by what we'd overcome.

"Barnabas... hold me," she wept softly.

I did, and she returned my embrace. All of the strength of her violence becoming the strength in her love.

"No more," she uttered, a quaver in my ear, and then a whisper, "No more."

"Yes," I whispered toward her ear in return, "no more."

Our heads pulled away so that we faced each other again, "No more violence, my darling."

"No more pain?" she asked.

We kissed and she held my jaw in a fair gesture, fingers beaded around to my neck.

"No. No more pain," I said, "Only Dark Shadows... and Light."


	16. Chapter 16: Annabel Lee: Reborn

A lovely alteration of an old poem by Edgar Allen Poe to wrap up the pain of Maggie & Barnabas' psychological troubles now spent from the three previous chapters.

Slightly altered, for the happiness of three relationships.

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Annabel Lee: Reborn

_It was many and many a year ago,_  
_In a kingdom by the sea,_  
_That a maiden lived whom you may know_  
_By the name of ANNABEL LEE;—_  
_And this maiden she lived with no other thought_  
_Than to love and be loved by me._

_I was a child and She was a child,_  
_In this kingdom by the sea,_  
_But we loved with a love that was more than love—_  
_I and my ANNABEL LEE—_  
_With a love that the wingéd seraphs of Heaven_  
_Coveted her and me._

_And this was the reason that, long ago,_  
_In this kingdom by the sea,_  
_A wind blew out of a cloud by night_  
_Chilling my ANNABEL LEE;_  
_So that her high-born kinsmen came_  
_And bore her away from me,_  
_To shut her up, in a sepulchre_  
_In this kingdom by the sea._

_The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,_  
_Went envying her and me;_  
_Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,_  
_In this kingdom by the sea)_  
_That the wind came out of the cloud, chilling_  
_And killing my ANNABEL LEE._

_But our love it was stronger by far than the love_  
_Of those who were older than we—_  
_Of many far wiser than we—_  
_And neither the angels in Heaven above_  
_Nor the demons down under the sea_  
_Can ever dissever my soul from the soul_  
_Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE:—_

_For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams_  
_Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;_  
_And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes_  
_Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;_  
_And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side_  
_Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride_  
_In our kingdom here by the sea—_  
_  
_

_We've found one another, and here she is mine,_

_Reborn to me now,_

_dare I question how?_

_I don't, I can not care any less_

_For our love is sublime_

_And we have all the time_

_To enjoy ourselves, ah, I am blessed_

_As the ocean waves roll_

_and the rocks take their toll_

_I turn away from them and what do I see?_

_Forever, my bliss_

_The fair woman I missed._

_The Beautiful ANNABEL LEE._

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Since I was using Nabokov for inspiration on this novel I went back to one of his own inspirations, fitting for a gothic story, Edgar Allen Poe. I thought over the poem and saw so many elements that touched this story too.

So in this strange way, again that number three, all these relationships might have peace.

Barnabas has his Josette in Maggie.

Perhaps a redeemed and better Humbert has a loving, willing (& older) Lolita, not necessarily Dolores Haze.

And Edgar Allen Poe may have his Annabel Lee. (Who was named the first incarnation of Lolita.)

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This is not the end of the story, there is a great more to come, both in healing, passion and love.


	17. Chapter 17: To Love, To Speak, To Name

Okay, the LAST time this was posted **SOMEONE** reviewed with the phrase *ladyboner*. Was that YOU, Nikki? (She was the non DS fan & porn-lover who said this whole thing would be my legacy, both "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" AND "Margaret Josette Dupres.") Everyone I've asked wishes they *could *claim that phrase! **Nikki,** if that was you, you better sign in to FF dot net and say so or I'm going to be ringing your cel phone until the battery **dies!**

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_"The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" notes (which you are welcome to skip:) Sam Evans is saved along the story line by Tony & Carolyn swapping the portrait of Angelique with the portrait of Capt. Daniel Gregg from "The Ghost & Mrs. Muir." They bring it to him because it had stains and needed to be cleaned and touched up. When he's out of the room they notice the portrait of Angelique he's working on, decide they have to get rid of it, and leave Capt. Gregg's portrait in it's stead as they run away._

_So Sam alters Angelique's painting, and with a vengeance this time around because he recalls not only a past life as Andre Dupres but some afterlife knowledge of what Angelique had done to Josette, his daughter in 1795. So both Sam and Maggie are reincarnations of those characters. Hence she'd switch back and forth from calling him "Pop" to calling him "Papa". (Fitting, eh?)_

_Later on Sam is also saved when the withered Angelique comes to investigate and demand her painting. Whoops! :) Tony & Carolyn took it away, and he doesn't know where so he doesn't have it and can't tell her anything. Plus, The Ghost of Capt. Daniel Gregg is hanging around. Capt. Gregg's character is the type of ghost who goes unseen and unheard unless he "wishes it". So he has powers to help and suggest certain things to people. Angelique doesn't know Gregg is there and in a way Gregg likely kept her from harming Sam, as she might just do out of habit._

_(And I have to admit, I still laugh at the lines in that encounter. When Angelique announces that the painting is crucial to her existence, Sam replies, "I don't blame you for saying so. *Anything* might be crucial to *your* existence at this point... I'd wager 20 supplements a day!". :D ...I know, we all likely have that as a standard in the 21st century, but I figured in the 1960's one must have been rather hard-up to be taking that many.)_

_Hence "Pop" is saved, and so here, Josette talks about him briefly and that he's still working on paintings and likely more inspired than ever._

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Chapter 17: To Love, To Speak, To Name

I have to admit… when I expected my husband to return from a trifling matter at the Main House of Collinwood… I had a few yearnings of my own I'd acquired. I'm sure his errand had something to do with a decanter and our Cousin Roger's machinations between some absurdity and his Sherry… for which we need look on with loving bemusement. As it all comes down to the essentials… Roger _is_ rather a gentleman when one gets to know him.

Still, I was looking forward to Barnabas's arrival… and I managed to get the other gentlemen away before he did. They sweetly ventured a few knowing smiles when I informed them of what I was after… Considering how big this homestead was… why _wouldn't _I wish to explore the avenues of love in all of its surfaces? And… with **Him**?

Now that we'd been through the worst of it, I found my love for him growing steadier and broader. He'd taken everything I thrown at him, all that I'd terrified myself to give and he'd even welcomed it. That could have shocked me but I was learning how willing he was to face the troubles and when he did they melted away in my hostility, of which I never enjoyed.

Yes... he was a good man... now... and how I loved him for it. Including the fact that I was the one who created that good in him... and now as I look at it, I had to be.

We'd slept on this Davenport together that I rested my back upon now, as I lay on these blankets on the floor before the fireplace … and… I _remember _walking in this door one hundred, seventy-four years ago… Seeing my people… seeing his people… and now that it was so much was quieter… if all the locks were secured, and the fireside lowly crackled… why **wouldn't** I wish to have some experimental time right here? Really? Why wouldn't I?

I thought of the possibilities... what would he do? I hope he'd be pleased and I kept smiling to myself at the thought of his welcoming gaze. Oh, yes, there was so much more to explore, especially now that we'd endured the worst of it. I thought of his kind face, of the smooth skin I'd touched. Of his secure embrace that held me with that sheltering warmth I adored. Barnabas never wanted to let me go when he did that and I faded into his arms. All was lavish in my union with him as I'd always longed for. He was proud of me and he had finally made me proud of him. I was opening my arms in anticipation of this renewal.

I had to giggle to myself… I wasn't sure if Mr. Barnabas Collins would be confused, surprised, or eager. I really had no idea. But I was curious. And I sighed…

Here it was that I'd been so disappointed and as Kitty, foolishly taken poison… but does anyone know what I was feeling or thinking at the time? What I'd been imagining in this room? What wild motions of love I'd entailed in my mind as I sat there waiting for what felt like forever? And surely, when one considers what I'd been through… I **HAD** been waiting forever… from one lifetime to the next… What a man… and a man one might not believe worth it… but he's always been to me.

After moving pieces of furniture with our two wonderful employees, I had this terrible feeling that from my various smiles and meaningful petting on the top of their hands… well… I had to wonder if they weren't driving off soon to something along the lines of… a house of ill repute… ? …or a theatre of lingerie damsels who danced around poles…? …or perhaps a certain movie-house in which… well, I'm sure you may be making up your own minds of where they went.

In Collinsport, there is a saloon of sorts, of course, we all know that… but perhaps I should be ashamed that I may have put ideas in their heads and led them elsewhere. What I would dearly love is if they'd only gone to the shed again for another game of Backgammon. Or they could have gone to see Pappa about some more portraits. His paintings have truly been coming along. More of our Sarah, especially. Yes, if they went to see him… That would relieve my heart.

Still, I had to enjoy the candlelight and the lack of any obnoxiously interrupting telephone to my thoughts. I stayed, with a bottle of chilled wine, resting on some cushions over blankets in front of the fire… and staring into it after I'd placed another log there. There were three now, resting cross angled over one another. "Three," I mused out loud, "like me."

I sighed… oh… how I'd always wanted_ just_ this. I sipped my wine and had a stack of three books I was tempted to flip through and just kept touching the covers of while I thought, and stared, and waited. Of course, one of these books was by John Cleland, published in 1748. I tended to leaf through it at times, but that was usually _all_ I needed. I do love the ending line: "The paths of Vice are sometimes strewed with roses, but then they are for ever infamous for many a thorn, for many a cankerworm: those of Virtue are strewed with roses purely, and those eternally unfading ones." If my old friend, Angelique had read this, _could_ read it, I'd hope it would make all the difference.

While reading I opened my slender robe from the heat, my sheen night dress exposed and rippling across my skin. It's silken features a comfort right now. But the fire brought me back to substantial thoughts. Perhaps it was the lack of oxygen… as the fire is so likely to waft that away within itself and I kept thinking… what will he do when he walks in that door, turns to his left and sees me awaiting him in this state lying down among quilts and cushions? What will he think? But what did it really matter until the time came? Until… _I did_… I wondered.

Soon enough, I heard the door open and his footsteps… I knew they could only be his and his alone.

"So…" he almost whispered, "awaiting me, my pet?"

_Ohhh..._ his confidence **had** come back. Yes... I was hoping it might. I'd been so vile in my destruction of his being, unleashing my contempt and the shame he'd done to our family so recently. I knew I had to do that, but now I was yearning to let go of that... and be... _taken_ by him; My dearest Barnabas Collins.

"Yes…" I answered softly.

You see. I wanted to be the lamb, this time. I was a little tired of doing so much work when it came to the dire necessities of love between him and I. In this moment… I was sleepy, which is perhaps why I'd somehow blinked awake… perhaps I'd been asleep, in fact… but my robe was removed, my night dress undone and I only noticed him now, almost naked and prepared.

Fluttering into my recognition I leaned back on the cushions I'd arranged for us to create this new ardour. He was down there with me, draped with the blankets as though wearing his own cape like coat over his shoulders and myself with barely a stitch on as well. It could be that I faded in and out of consciousness and he'd already discarded my clothing… or perhaps I'd removed them myself. Who can say? Wine can be a strong sedative.

Before the firelight, he wrapped the blankets around us and kissed me deeply and held the back of my neck and skull with a gentle clasp. I felt the weight of his chest and sternum in my hands, reached further up to caress his smooth shoulders… and finally… somehow, without my own aide… he brought himself into me and I responded as delicately as I could. (We know how difficult that inhalation can be at certain intervals, don't we ladies?)

It was _less_ fierce this time, but somehow as passionate as before, if not more so. I felt myself closing around him, trying to respond to his movements with my legs upraised, but he rested his hand down on my knee and insisted I stop.

"No… Josette, not this time, please…" he said, strongly, yet softly, "I want it to last… don't overwhelm me. Let us remain together as long as possible."

He stroked my hair and face and kissed me all over as he said these words… and I understood. Perhaps I'd been too voracious… and also, perhaps it made little difference when all was said and done? We **would**, if we were lucky, have _all_ the time in the world for this, and that was something I had not listened to. We'd been waiting too long and been too eager… Not that we blamed each other for that. It was such a long time to wait.

"Don't you know that I love you? Don't you know that I want you?" He asked, even then slowly thrusting himself into me, running his hand up my thigh and squeezing my hip.

"But… you **_are_ **having me… aren't you?" I queried, in motion, "As I am… having you?"

"What difference does that make?" He asked, still not changing his stance, and we continued to envelope each other, above and below. "I still love you… I still want you… I still adore you… and I want to _know_ that you know this," he whispered in kisses along my neck.

"Of course I know it, Barnabas Collins… of course… aren't you showing me?" I answered in my kissing returns. I felt him coursing through to me, creating a duration I welcomed and enveloped down below. His opening of me to him, his compounding efforts to bring us together... I wanted to spread my arms along the floor but I couldn't. I had to clasp the muscle of his shoulders... _strongly_.

"Then stop forcing my completion, Josette Dupres… stop overpowering me to cease all I want to show you. Let this love continue as long as it can. So much I want to explore you and so much I want you to explore me. We've been too forceful on one another. Can't we understand each other here… especially in this very room… as you've so chosen to do this? "

Our hands reached to find all the spots on us that went untouched, stretching over sides front torso and each other's backs. My fingers drifted along his skin, like rose petals I was feeling with my lips on his.

"Did I?" I asked between kisses, " I only thought it would be a blessing of romance, considering all the hostility that's taken place in this room."

"I understand," he said, and then began to throw himself into me all of a sudden so that for a few minutes, that was all there was, and I reacted in kind. My throat opened with thrills of animation as he continued to enter me and re-enter me. Trailing his fingers behind my legs, he went and rested his face at the center of my chest. I took his head in my hands there while he breathed so heavily.

"You weren't unmindful, Josette… didn't you know?"

"Know what?"

"I've always wanted to make love to you in this room? To clean it of all the trouble and also because… I first saw you enter this house here… and how much I wanted you right then, when I saw you."

The rhythm of his love never ceased and I understood. Of course, what happiness and horror we'd shared here. Had I been sensitive to it or insensitive? Perhaps both. I didn't raise my legs, but I did bend my knees and rested my feet on his calves lower down. I wanted some further communication between us beyond the upper torso and our lips. Really… I **did** want us to have "knowledge" of each other completely. However… what I was coming to understand is that it would take a lifetime… _and what a lifetime_… what a pleasure and enjoyment to keep on… exploring. I had to tell him... I was _dying_ to tell him...

"When you call me that… When you call me, Josette… do you know what I feel?" I asked.

"Tell me." He breathily responded.

"My heart… my hands…" I answered.

"And… Kitty," he asked, not ceasing to torment my innards.

"My feet, my spine, my throat…" I answered, breathing and writhing.

"And… Maggie…?" he slowly asked, still not stopping his movements, his kisses, his caresses.

"My mind, my head, my knees… " I whispered… knowing these thing instantly in my search to explore myself.

"But… _that_ one… you know…" he kissed and throbbed and halted all movement suddenly, staring into my eyes, touching my face, "And… When I ask you… **_DuPres?"_**

And then… the tears came down… and at last I said, stroking his hair, and his neck, as he was raised higher above… looking down… "Myself… all of me… all of it, I feel you… and all of me… my dearest."

He exhaled from his withheld expectation, a kind of slow delight. A strange ecstasy.

"Somehow… I was sure of that, DuPres… and I won't force my name on yours… for that one is the beauty of all that you are… and you know that… my dearest love."

In this moment, to my strange discovery, I found I was a happily married woman.

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_Please comment... with that particular phrase, if you like... that I'm almost positive it was my M-Rated pal... _


	18. Chapter 18: A Warm Night On Widows Hill

_As some may be aware "The Wedding Night" came from an urge to visualize these two married at last. I was **not** prepared for what I saw. And so, this new writing experience came into being from a one shot... to a set of bedroom vignettes to a post-marriage novel I never intended but now think is so wonderful I want to publish and sell it. And I believe doing so may solve marital troubles in others lives as it's done in ours._

_It struck me that through certain scenes these two characters were not only finally exploring each other, but beginning to bring their love into other areas of their home. In this way they could provide more sacred memories in order to heal the past. Association with bad experiences tend to keep most people away from almost anything: songs, certain individuals, choice of media, and certainly places._

_How Barnabas and Josette could embody their home with the love it required was to create new and better experiences, however intimate, into these zones. Couples do get a bit of thrill passing by certain areas they've made love in, not just the bedroom, of course. That's when I realised there was one place that needed to be cleansed in this way beyond all others. So, I would deeply appreciate some commentary on this chapter. Very curious if it's hit that mark. I find it quite profound._

_The previous chapter still gives ME the jitters. I never thought that much talking during "the act" would hold so much relevance. Still, I do re-read this one and felt it was important... and of course, she would *have* to dare him to do it. ;)_

* * *

Chapter 18: A Warm Night On Widows Hill

Tony Peterson and Carolyn Stoddard had been relaxing late one evening on a bench near Widow's Hill. The breeze was thin and this couple has been enjoying a bit of sensitive groping over and under their jackets. As one can imagine, the romantic tragedy of that place can bring a kind of terror that sparks certain yearnings to those in love. Of course, they settled in from holding hands, to making out, to certain second-base activities… until… as he dipped to kiss this blonde maiden of his already dazzled admiration and enjoyment, Mr. Peterson's eyes wandered toward the cliff and noticed movement, like two animals wrestling twenty feet from the edge. His lips came free due to his concerned stare in the distance.

"What is it, Tony?" Carolyn asked, almost out of breath, "what's stopping you?"

"I—think…" he raised himself back to sitting position and adjusted the lapels on his somewhat ruffled coat, "… there… is… someone over there…"

Carolyn sat up in turn and gasped at the sight. "Hmm, that's rather far away from where _we're_ sitting… but, even under blankets… I think I know _who…"_ Her voice trailed off in uncertain dismay.

"Meeee too," Tony Peterson responded, "and I'm not… sure… we… should… be…"

"Watching them?" Carolyn said, beginning to smile, "well, it won't cool **us** off to do so, that's for sure!"

"I, well," Tony uttered, "haven't they been married for a while now? You'd think the honeymoon age would have tempered down at this point."

"Not with those two," Carolyn started to giggle, "They've been waiting QUITE a while, so I've gathered."

"Mmm-hmmm," he speculated with a winsome grin, "you did belt out to have them married with no opposition at the time, didn't you?"

Carolyn chuckled, "I sure as hell did! My cousin Barnabas has been so lost he was making certain advances toward _me_ and that was more than enough to know he needed her. They were meant for each other and they've been confused in their past long enough... Although... for right now? I'm still tempted by a few ideas..."

Tony looked to Carolyn and shared her amusement, "Carolyn Stoddard. You certainly are sounding mischievous right now. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Likely," she answered, "but let's just_ think_ it. Besides, I'm sure they'd hear us creeping up if we were to play such a prank. AND I don't have a whoopee cushion stashed away in my pocket, do _you_?"

He stretched himself up and took the hand of his lady fair, "They must be out here for more than it being a warm night. Best leave them to it."

And, of course, Tony Peterson was correct.

* * *

The evening had started, much the same as most. David's studies had long concluded, and dining had commenced. Drinks before the fire at Collinwood had gathered a few of us to talk of old times… some bad memories, but more good ones that had been happening, which was such a comfort.

Barnabas and I slowly roamed back home to The Old House, and we caught a glimpse of Willie Loomis walking hand in hand with his sweetheart through the woods. They were so fetching, and clearing the air of those places that had been plagued with sacrilege and savage deeds. His final understanding of love, I thought, watching the two walking through the brush and trees was an amazing accomplishment I could only put to him.

"Well," said my Mr. Collins, "that is a sight. It's very warm tonight, indeed. Good to see him calming down."

"Or rather," I added, "getting worked up?"

We continued into the house. He closed the door and I offered my arm for him to take. The warmth of his gaze stirred my soul with wonder. Now I have him... I do... at last. We strolled in together, the hearth already aglow and I thought of that night together on the floor in front of it. How precious and adoring he had been toward my body, my names, my soul. As we sat ourselves down upon the davenport, I expected us to simply hold close, and I to rest my head upon his shoulder. It started out that way, and he stroked my head. But something in that first kiss, when I rolled my head on his shoulder to face him, lit a thrill of adventure and the next thing I knew, it had turned passionate. I wrapped my arms around his neck and shoulders as we went on and felt his hands massage the top most sides of my ribs just below my arms. It only made matters worse as I thought mad things.

"Somewhere else needs to be cleansed," I breathed as our lips parted.

"Where, my dearest?" his kind voice breathing over my cheeks.

"Would you allow me my choice?"

"Anything, anything at all for you," he answered, stroking my face and hair.

"A bad place, a tragic edge by the sea," I said.

He seemed to stop breathing as he stared at me. An indefinable look crossed his face, "Maggie Evans," he finally said, "You can't mean that."

"Why not," I ventured, staring him down, "we've already kissed there."

His hands rested on my shoulders and he brought his chin in, looking up at me, "I don't want to disappoint you… but I don't exactly share your enthusiasm for it. Besides, it's dangerous."

"For us as we are now?" I asked, lowly.

"That's a lot to ask," he answered, just as low.

"You forget, _mon démon,_ **I'm** the one who's asking. And it's a lot for me to brave asking."

"You've always been brave, my dearest."

"And you haven't?" I kissed him, tenderly.

"One doesn't wish to boast," he sighed with a smile.

I took his head in my hands, resting two fingers around both of his ears, "I _dare_ you, Barnabas Collins. I _dare_ you to make love with me on Widow's Hill."

To this, I saw a blink, with some sparkle of anticipation. Then he threw a fervent kiss into me as his answer.

* * *

Of course I wasn't about to ask anyone to retrieve the blankets we'd need, nor was I going to ask him to carry them there, but I managed well enough in my determination. He walked smoothly, cane in one hand and a small lantern in the other as he strode, hardly a frolic, but I amused myself with the idea of him as a boy doing so. I didn't want to go too close to the edge, but I walked to a spot where I'd held consultation with myself over all these events many times. He didn't know this. My coming here at any time after everything was sure to lace his thoughts with far too much anxiety.

The sea wind, the lapping waves below this cliff brought more flurries of longing for him as I spread the blankets out. He stood there like a gentle guard over my preparations, sometimes watching me, sometimes out into the dark night over the ocean, and often when I looked up, there was that pained sourness I came to both adore and be uneasy about in his expression. I took the lantern and placed it nearby between two stones.

"Come down, now," I offered, sitting sideways, knees bent and lifting my hand, "don't be afraid."

He took my hand, sloped down his cane with the other and kneeled before me, as though at the altar of something precious. "If I put this place out of my mind, perhaps all will be well."

"That's not what I want," I told him, "it has to be here. **We** have to be here. Or we won't have learned a thing."

A soft half-lidded glow came from his eyes. A full moon made this obvious as the cloud before it drifted away. (Hearing a canine howl I had to repress a simper in thinking of the wolf whose blood I'd taken many nights ago. I hoped, in spirit, he was at peace somewhere, too.)

"How do you propose we uncover ourselves here, my darling? Someone could come by at any moment."

"I know," I marvelled, raising an eyebrow, "doesn't that excite you?"

"If _you're_ here to… protect me," he smiled.

"As I did by your sick bed ages ago?" I returned.

"Do you want me to be gentle?" he breathed, closing in for my lips.

"Yes," I exhaled, kissing him, "and… no."

It seemed quick at the time, but we were cautious. No need to pop off buttons and lose them in the grass. These starlit heavens knew at least one sock would go astray. We heartily removed each other's clothing between the blankets. When I removed his shirt and beheld his smooth shoulders I didn't want to wait. We kissed between articles undone, and he reached down between my legs to easily discover just how much my heart craved him then.

As the last piece was taken off and all we had between us and the air were the bedclothes I'd brought, we lay facing each other, me on my right side and he on his left. He stroked me along, from my ribs to my hips and down behind my leg, then began the process again and again, making me shiver. I took his neck, rested my thumbs along his jaw and tasted his lips on mine as he slunk his hand down again, but this time lifted my leg higher up and brought it over his hip. The agonizing fusion began as I brought my leg almost behind him, our parts joining slowly, and then at last, with a certainty most profound, we were as one again.

As the inhalations came from us of this change, our sidelong unity bringing warmth and breadth to our love on this legendary ground becoming fable, I stroked his ribs with the tips of my fingers. When I wasn't on his lips, I took his neck and his chest close to me, inhaling his cherished scent and that mixture between the two of us. I found myself asking, would a child ever come of our union and would it have the scent of that mixture between us? That would be the request between the sexual, the sacred, and the blend of its exquisite purpose, wouldn't it?

I moved to rise above him and he turned on his back to help this as we inhaled the salty air, cooler here, of course, than at home, but still a good night for it all which was dearly needed on this very spot. We pressed together, back and forth and I thought of how much desire I'd diminished when I was so fearful and lost my way here long ago. But it had all come back to me again, this inner devoir to fasten myself to him as I was doing now. Hips colliding, folds opening, destiny entrapping us in assenting flower.

Running my hands along his chest, I kissed and yes, nibbled and bit, and he responded, his subtle groans mixing with the oceans echo, splashing on the rocks below… rocks I'd known too intimately. Now, at last, I knew _him_ intimately instead. I met his lips and thanked all between worlds of spirit and soul for allowing this to finally happen.

I glided myself above him, breathing in, wrists touching the sides of his chest as I folded my hands down, resting on the blankets. He reached his hands up my back. I rested my knees on either side of his stomach. I felt his hands course up between my scapulae, then wrap the tops of my shoulders in his fingers and press me down, bringing us closer together again and again, and the inhalations became marked with more severity. That fluttery sensation arrested my innards and raced along my limbs.

The fear of those days, the pain of what happened was slowly replaced with this enactment of desire. I leant down now, bringing my arms around him and veering myself down, stroked his face with my own and kissed him deeply, tongues touching lightly. His arms around me, feeling him within me, we writhed upon each other in both sweet need and satisfaction. The waves collided as though in time with how we did, and I listened to the gulls make that repetitive call that once struck me as wild chatter, but all I heard in it now was laughter.

At last we rolled and he was astride me, darkly smiling, inly moaning, we continued blissfully, him pressing his mouth along my shoulders, my throat, my torso, I grabbing his neck to welcome this and feeling about his leg with my ankle. Our breathing shuddered. I looked to the stars, to the moon, to the night, lustily, lovingly, gratefully. At last, through two lives of disappointment, and another of some torment, I was finally home and with him.

We completed each other in a rapture divine and shaky. My mouth beamed in a smile. He halted, caressing me around the ear and speaking softly, "I understand now… a new experience, a new memory to wipe out the old and make this place beautiful… like you… Josette."


	19. Chapter 19: A Delicate Splendour

_This is a post-coital scene, with conversation explaining how our bride contains so much of her history in her mind._

_As much reincarnation research provides, most children who experience it, tend to have flashes which drift away from them as they reach maturity. With adults going through regression therapy it's different. The flashes come and if they investigate to unlock them, reaching out to familiar settings and people, the other lives are often maintained and have relevance during their current life._

_A good thing to keep in mind here with Maggie is that the lives as Kitty Soames and Josette Dupres are inherently linked with hers. She contains memories in the same way that John Sullivan's memories are both retained and altered, much like a remix of the same life, but separate time lines. John Sullivan is the protagonist from the film "Frequency" that was released in 2000. In Sullivan's life he finds a way to communicate with a younger version of his deceased father and in doing so alters the past several times. Maggie would retain the life of Kitty Soames who returned in 1795 as Josette Dupres in a new replay of similar events as the original Josette and so she talks about her experience somewhat here._

_There have been many times when I listen to the podfic of "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" and I give my adopted characters the credit for their words. I'll say, "Go, Pop!" or "Go, Liz!" or "Good job!" to whatever character, bonus or Dark Shadows I've managed to help and give a fun line to. But rarely ever Barnabas. In this chapter, when his grin widens as he discusses writing down the details of the love he and his bride share and how much glory he finally enjoys with her, I just have to say it: "Go, Barnabas!" Hee, hee, hee... you lovely, lovely old man._

* * *

Chapter 19: A Delicate Splendour

I was above her, sated and the waves crashed beside us. Being over her, my hands gripping her shoulders, I was enervated to a certain degree. The beauty of all that was... all that there is to my Josette in this Maggie was enveloping me so forcefully, so beautifully in this calm we'd found to stabilize ourselves through all our yearning and all of our pain. The humid air surrounding us among these blankets she'd placed, insisting we existed in our love here. I couldn't blame her. She'd showed me the allurement of what this meant now. It was beautiful here and I would hardly consider shame now.

She was wise to make us do this and I could not worry about others peeping toward us in their curiosity. After all... here I am writing it down. If only you could witness the wide grin on my face as I do so. My honours as a wedded man surpass any abashed instincts I have. I knew too much was seen and heard in this day and age. Besides, it's not as though we all had our secrets in the time my Josette and I lived before. There were indiscretions in that day and age... but _nothing_ like what I wanted to pursue with her... _nothing._ Those were many and sundry of a repellent nature, but what we had was sacred. To spread our ardour over the grounds of Collinwood was a blessing to prize and take no shame in admitting to. _Yes... wouldn't it be?_

Ohh... she'd been shy in kissing me once... but for this she was not shy anymore. Beautiful girl... _luxuriously beautiful..._

* * *

The night we explored each other on Widows Hill and she'd looked beyond my face to smile into the stars beyond I had to feel my way to her neck and ask at her ear, "Did you enjoy this... what we've just done?"

She exhaled with a throaty yearning and an inhale, "Of course I did... that was a rhetorical question, wasn't it?"

I'd let myself go but I still had a throbbing pain and showed it to her in response to this question. I was still within her strongly, and in displaying my continuance we both drowned in stretching our union to further reaches. Once finding the utmost, this sensation is beyond overwhelming. She leant her head back, her neck arcing forward and I grasped it in my mouth. Suckling at her tender flesh, knowing I'd be lost soon and unable to continue throughout her naked viscera, as much as I adored exploring her there. A man can only go so far.

We parted in a calamitous exhale.

But how did we return home in this exposure between us?

We grabbed what we could, realigning what we'd worn before we came here. There was a shivering of dressing each other just as we'd undressed ourselves, an exhilaration of getting back to the house that we both shared somehow.

"No," she expressed, buttoning me half way, "let's not worry about what we've lost here, but only of what we've gained..."

"Truly, Josette?" I requested in these facets of touching kisses and caresses, wanting to unveil her again as she'd shown me beneath these blankets.

"Stop that," she breathed, "there is far more in tonight than you ever wondered... my beloved."

"Don't tell me," I ventured, "that I've finished myself into you just to want more?"

"That's always been the case," she smiled, beautifully and I grabbed her neck, her head, the warmth of her mouth in this shivery, glistening passion of previous experience.

"Not more..." I begged, but still wanting and wanting without struggle, "Tell me, or tell me not... more?"

"Sooo much more, my darling."

It was the most mesmerizing agony to reach The Old House again... and now that I write down these details, shouldn't I call it New? Perhaps Anew? For wasn't it, though? I watched her skirt rippling in the warm breeze as she was ahead of me again, or when beside me, I'd look down and observe, craving those ankles that had once reached where I could kiss them beside my neck and kiss them with a loving admiration of all she could do to excite my will on her. I thought of that as our livened steps passed over the dried filaments of tall grass... to have her legs around me, to kiss the inner portion of her thighs, her calves, the collective union between her legs and womanhood. _Yes._ This area has been both soothing and a thrill of pleasure to her when I massaged it, notably on both sides at once. Smooth motions of our love came from it, of course, for her release of inner nectar was kindled to pour out from how I touched her.

With these thoughts burdening me I nearly tripped but she caught me, "Barnabas? Are you all right?"

"With you," I made no pause to assert, "never. I am either thrown into total fulfillment with your heart pressed to mine or... finding my desires trifled with when we are apart."

She stood agape for a split second and then grabbed my arm as we raced on. But why race? Why not fall to the ground and repeat this evenings process all over again? Ah, we'd left the blankets behind on Widows Hill. Perhaps someone had come upon them already and wondered. I smiled at this thought.

The door swung open and shut by Josette's hand and all we saw were the stairs until Willie stood by the side, "Barnabas, Ah got's some news about-"

"Not now, dear heart," my Maggie called out as we trod up and away.

We heard a snicker fade into the distance and then a yell, "You two are CRAZY!"

As far away as we were, we laughed with him. Crazy in love, yes... Mr. Willie Loomis was undeniably correct in this.

A shocking display of rosy cheeks and breathy stirs met me when I turned from closing her door. I could never, _never_ prepare myself in time.

"I don't want you to," she assured me, again that oddity of hearing my thought, "I simply want to be with you... here," Josette unfolded her hand toward her bed.

I stepped toward her in earnest curiousity, "clothed... or... unclothed?"

All our disarray was obvious as we stood there in this moment.

"Unclothed, of course," she entreated, unraveling what few buttons had been fastened on me before we left the hill.

I bent down and brought her long skirt up over her head. She slunk her arms upward for I to remove this garment and there she was. Untouched and alive as when her mother had released her from the chasm of her womb. And knowing she had had three, I wondered who this mother could be, and if like her father, she too was always that reincarnation of the previous. What a gift to me if that be so; a collective family unit of souls for one daughter striving to find me. Did I deserve it? Well, this fair skinned, opalescent bride believed that I was. And her soul was the soul of all my yearning heart.

In my half-closed lids of these thoughts she'd removed the desultory threads of my own clothing and we stood enraptured with a passion that was already spent but still thriving. Then my Maggie stepped backward, arms outstretched... inviting and we laid down together, gliding along the sheets. She lifted her head and I slipped her hair up over the pillows. There we held each other, as touching and tender as ever before.

* * *

I have wondered in my thoughts of this Josette, and how she manages to keep herself so well put together. So this night, when even our passion hadn't tired us into slumber, I asked her.

"I suppose," she began, slowly, lying upon her back, "it's a little like when an amnesia patient remembers themselves. And… it helps, that all the surroundings are the same, though seen in a different light, with separate circumstances…" and then she gave out a trickle of little gasps and moans.

You see, as she spoke, I'd been exploring her, tracing my fingers along her neck, then down her arms, along her ribs, kissing her left side in areas I'm not sure how to place. I'd been discovering she had some finer responses to all this _after_ the act. And this act of ours in the place of her destruction before being reborn to me two-fold brought even deeper frenzy inside the both of us. She moaned so happily, so beautifully, which both excited me and calmed me somehow.

"And so," I said, just as slowly, as I pressed my lips along her arm repeatedly, "you know… all about this place… and about… yourself…"

"Yes," she breathed strangely, still responding to my kisses as they reached the palm and fingers of her hand, "but… of course… oh… never… like this…"

I felt down and groped for her leg, but she made a small protest, "No, Barnabas, stay gentle, not so…"

"Of course," I answered, and proceeded, moving myself lower on her bed, to stroke her along her thigh and her knee. I watched my hand as it weaved along her delicate flesh, opening my mouth to envelope that flesh with my adoration. Continuing then along her ankle and impressed at a velveteen quality, as I gently moved along her skin. Then I came back up, and up, onward upon her stomach, staring all the while at any lovely contour and appreciating each one.

"Would it have been like this," I asked, feeling her along her bosom, then her collarbone, "back then?"

"Not sure," she said, and then gave out a light gasp, "I can't imagine it having been any… better, but we've been through so much, you and I. Perhaps that would be the reason this has created so much more passion than would have happened when I was on my own... when I wanted you to take me that night in my room almost two centuries ago, my… dearest."

My fingers glided up her neck and gently pressed her head to face mine. She turned her body on its right to reach for me as well. Feeling her lips on mine, a desire began to resurge down my vitals, but nothing I was intent to make good on. This kiss, sweet and long, was where we stayed for a sensuous minute or two.

When our lips parted, she exhaled, "So hard to believe sometimes, but, that's the reason it's all so beautiful, I suppose."

"There's too much to say," I whispered, and smiled, "too much to share, too many old memories to unlock," I hooked my arm under hers as we faced each other, and ran my fingers along her back as she continued to inhale, sometimes sharply, sometimes softly. Perhaps many women might react this way to tender caresses after the main ordeal was over, but all that mattered to me was that _She_ did. I was beginning to see how untouched these moments are… as I reached up her back and neck, my hand searching behind her skull and running my fingernails along it, up through her chestnut hair. Again, she closed her eyes and echoed sounds of pleasure.

"And… too many… new memories… to create…" she intoned, opening her eyes. The fire from the hearth reflected in them, but not a harsh light, a precious glow, something to marvel me more about her beauty and soul. Ah, this key distinction, _soul…_ I wrapped my left arm around her and lifted her torso to topple mine in a slight cross angle. We held each other close, gazing at each other, simply, wistfully, and I found myself reaching to stroke her hair. Something in this look, this gaze, spoke words that had no definition, something infinite, dear and true. An indication of all that we had been, were now, and could be in the future.

She'd had her hand on my shoulder, then worked it to my face, tracing along my cheekbones, chin and sliding her thumb over my lips, giving me pause for a tiny smile. Then she took a spell to rest her ear on my chest and the hand that had been stroking her head, took this and held her close to my heart.

I listened closely, beyond the simmering fire and to the ocean waves. Those waves, from here to her island birthright, or the sea that she sailed over from her second incarnation. They were all one body of water in a way, weren't they? And that heat in Martinique, so intense, I felt the need to ask, as I'd likely asked before, "Josette?"

"Yes, my dearest," she whispered.

"Do you feel… cold here? In this climate?"

She brought her head up to rest her chin on my ribs, "I have been cold, but not anymore, not since I found my way back… to you."

* * *

_As I've re-read this segment, that's touched me in many ways, there is a main highlight I'd like to point out. It's when Barnabas describes certain physical gestures:_

"Then she took a spell to rest her ear on my chest and the hand that had been stroking her head, took this and held her close to my heart."

_Something in that preciousness and his very deep gratitude for it goes strait down my core._

_In writing my own material, I've had lovers as such but never quite in this extreme desire, need or satisfaction. It's a much younger love I've worked on. This one, with almost two centuries of longing, has had a profound effect on me. To see the possibilities of what it could be like if it turned out is beyond anything I've ever experienced before in any media I've imbibed. I'm hoping someday to encounter others of like mind who feel the same way about it._

_Also, I found this a unique interlude. I have my doubts of post-coital moments ever being described like this in other "adult" material._

_As this goes, I say again, "Go, Barnabas Collins!" I have never used you as a punching bag to relieve my own catharsis, and I never will. :)_


	20. Chapter 20: Willie TP's Collinwood

_I realise that the contraception bit is a little awkward (isn't it always?), but I figure someone on this estate ought to be promoting safe-sex. It might as well be provided by our Mystery Woman. And sheesh, can anyone actually IMAGINE Mr. Loomis with a kid? Certainly gives ME the Willies... :S_

_I'd been wanting to include this in the radio drama (cleansed of M-rated material, of course) but knew it would take some time to reach this scene. I wanted it at least in some form out of my system so I had a number of hard ciders one night and got it over with. My own intoxication was likely why it got so repetitive. And with the lyrics, I rather enjoy the idea of The Partridge Family blending with The Collins Family. (We'll see if I'm allowed to include them in the print version.)_

_Again, this is from Maggie/Josette's perspective as I haven't been able to bring myself to speaking/writing from Mr. Loomis'. I know there are many fans of the Maggie/Willie pairing and to appease them and myself, I try and keep them rather close and spending time together in a type of "slumber party" fashion._

* * *

Chapter 20: Willie Toilet Papers Collinwood

_Hello world, here's a song that we're singin'  
Come on, get happy  
A whole lotta lovin' is what we'll be bringin'  
We'll make you happy_

_We had a dream we'd go travelin' together  
And spread a little lovin' if we'll keep movin' on  
Somethin' always happens whenever we're together  
We get a happy feelin' when we're singin' a song_

_Travelin' along, there's a song that we're singin'  
Come on, get happy  
A whole lotta lovin' is what we'll be bringin'  
We'll make you happy  
We'll make you happy  
We'll make you happy_

When our Mr. Loomis had something to say earlier on, it was more to discuss with me really, than with Barnabas. But my husband and I were in some bliss of continuing our passion upstairs after the rapture of Widows Hill. Those widows _do_ sound as if they've stopped wailing and are likely giggling instead. Still, Willie had me curious and I ventured to his room the next day. The plumbing issues of The Old House, our home, could wait. Willie's concerns were far more important.

Of course, this tale is too much of a delight to let pass without revealing certain shreds of it. When Willie told me about it, he _did _say it with his usual aplomb I still have a hard time translating, but for some reason, every detail was explained as we shared secretive laughs over glasses of port and some candy bars. You see, there is just something about sex tales that we feel the need to express with a friend. And frankly, in _this_ town and on _this_ estate, we all need to make certain vents to our frustration and that includes the _good_ things.

Of course, the girl we can't give a name to right now, had come to express her loneliness and the bad things that had happened to her recently at her old place of employment. And was Mr. Loomis _ever_ concerned. I'm sure he was more than willing to give a fist in the face to the man who'd made her job so troubling. However, I did tell him, that our home was so huge, we would gladly allow her admittance. It would beat all to see her out of that boarding house and not only that, but I could _finally_ get Willie to exchange his shabby room to something at least a little grander. And what might be grander than Barnabas's old bedroom? My husband and I have found it almost implausible to cleanse those quarters with our love. There was simply too much hurt in that place; especially with my **other **husband haunting it so much. I leave it to Willie Loomis and his own sweet lady to do that job for us. But that's not what _this_ story is about.

It was when they went for that first walk together, and had passed all the various places where he'd dug unnecessary graves, and people tied to trees, etcetera, etcetera, you get the idea. But as the afternoon settled, they came back and saw the brown paper bags she'd left beside the door of the Old House. Mr. Loomis had asked what they were. And she pleasantly showed him.

He professed that perhaps we might need all that toilet paper in her bag for the old outhouse some of us still bother to use, usually in emergencies. But she shook her head, "No, no, Willem," for some reason, that's what she prefers to call him, "this is for another plan I had in mind."

"What did ya have in mind?" he asked, almost coyly.

"Well…" she smiled slowly, "you and I are mischievous people, of course,"

"I know," he responded, "ya told me."

"So I thought we might… _toilet paper_ Collinwood."

"What?" he laughed, "_This_ place?"

"No, no," she rejoined, "I wouldn't even _know_ how to climb these columns. I meant the main house."

"Oh?" He smiled with a hand-folding surprise, "ya really mean that?"

"I thought it might help," she answered, slyly "we need a little mischief that isn't so terrible, don't we?"

Willie laughed in disbelief, "How did ya ever come to know me so well?"

"Oh," she said, "you and I have known each other before."

…

"Oh, no!" I chuckled, "and that was _just_ the start?"

"Yeh, Maggie, it was… are ya sure ya want to know the rest?"

"You can't leave it down to that, Willie Loomis," I told him, sipping the necessary port I'd need to hear it all in less embarrassment, "I didn't encourage this for _nothing_. If you want to tell me, I'm more than willing to hear it."

And so he continued…

…

From sound it, the more they carried the bags and thought over this opportunity, the faster their steps beckoned them onward to Collinwood. Those two didn't even bother with the door knocker. The ease of tension left the latch as open as ever in the stately abode. However, they did make an effort to be sure the door was closed as it has this habit of swinging open again if one doesn't have focus enough to shut it.

Shuffling up the stairs with this low-level, though still devious, plot in mind, I think Mrs. Johnson came out with some curious wonderings that they ignored and of course she just shrugged. We all _know_ that Mrs. Johnson is ready to expect any oddities passing through the doors. I'm not surprised she didn't pursue those two.

They raced up and through to a room where they could reach the roof of that house. And so they found a window, climbed out of it and up to the roof, bags in hand, ripped off the cellophane wrapping and proceeded to fling rolls of toilet paper all about the outside walls of what paupers what might call a palace but _we_ all call Home.

"That might have been a waste, Willie!" I commented, "One roll going down would likely have half of it on the ground unused."

"Ah, no," he told me, "we spun half a roll in our hand so we had more to drop everywhere."

I laughed, "Good job!"

"Well it was her idea."

With all the stomping and laughing on the roof a window opened and Roger called out, "What on earth _are_ all these shenanigans?"

At this point he saw the tissue flowing effusively and laughed himself into approval, "Oh, go ahead, Mr. Loomis! Have your fun! We'll have it cleaned by someone. Why _else_ have all this money?"

"Thank you, Mr. Collins!" called out our Lady of Love.

And then David climbed out the window and was brought up over a gable to join in the festivities. The three of them had the time of their lives with 42 rolls of cheap toilet paper cascading all over the focal point of this estate, wondering what might happen if Elizabeth Stoddard rolled back in from her trip to England at that moment. And we all know whether that happened or not. (Ahem!)

At some point, our Willie was getting a bit warm for this damsel who had managed to touch his playful heart so dearly. David was seen carefully back through the same window as Roger caught him. Roger asked them if they'd like to share a drink with him. They declined, and Roger, _knowing_ what they might be up to next, accepted their answer and made good to get his son downstairs for some distraction, the better to dissuade a listening ear.

Of course, who needs blankets with this kind of excitement? They managed to kiss passionately while they removed their clothing and even _then_ he just had to fondle her upper torso, to which she made _no_ resistance but breathed excitedly. She told him, "It's been such a hard life for us, Willem… let's change that."

"Really?" he exhaled, excitedly kissing her, grabbing the areas all about her chest, her thighs and her hips. (He only told me that when I pursued my interest on it.)

"Absolutely," she said, "unless there was something you wanted to do first?"

"Huh! I _know_ there is," he asserted, removing more articles of clothing as she removed his, "I want you to rest on your stomach."

"Why?" she breathed, continuing to kiss him.

"Because… I knew… it was _you…_"

"Me? Who did what?" she asked, as if she didn't know.

"I'll show yeh," he answered, helping to turn her about on her front side to the toilet papered roof and proceeding to kiss her bare back… and then suckling it and biting hard as he could in remembrance of what she'd done for him, in the same areas on _her_ that he remembered on himself. And did she whine and try to repress groans of excitement in this sensual awakening? She'd **have **to do. He described her scraping the roof tiles in agony until a nail broke… to which he kissed it as lovingly as he could and she twirled face up.

...

"Oh no," I asked in concern, "did you have any, well, you know…"

"Well, Maggie," he answered, "she _does_ have a history of medicine," then he reflected bemused and looked at me, "well, don't you and him do that, too?"

"No," I answered, "for some reason in our immortal state we don't need it, but I'm still going to be worried about you two."

"Oh," he said, understanding, "I get'cha, I get'cha, but yes, she definitely had a few of _those_ stashed away in her pockets."

"Oh?" I asked, intrigued, "How many, Willie?"

"Erm... Six, I think," he admitted.

I almost screamed, "_Six?_ What was she expecting? That's a lot to stow away on this kind of a date!"

He laughed, pressing his face into his hands, "Well, I think it was just some, some…"

"Over compensation?" I added, helpfully, draining more port from the bottle into his glass. He sitting on his bed as I sat on the floor. I finished this and he turned in the glass and tipped it to his lips. I could see he was trying not to chortle back into this liquid. Willie was already over excited confessing all this to me.

"Yep! Anyway… is this too much, Maggie?"

"No! Go on… what happened?"

"Ah," he laughed, embarrassingly, "well, she put it on,"

"She'd have to," I reasoned.

"Oh and when…" he stalled.

"When what? Don't leave me in suspense, Willie. What did it feel like?"

Willie Loomis stared into my eyes, simpered, and put his glass on the floor. He collapsed on his bed as the springs shook, and he said, "Warm… it felt… _she_ felt… warm…"

I had to let out a happy sigh, "Oh, Willie, _warm_? Don't you know how wonderful… how poetic that sounds?"

"Never thought I had it in me, huh?" he asked, turning his head toward me.

"Yes, I did, Willie," I marvelled, "what happened? How did you not roll off that roof together and break your necks?"

"Oh," he awoke, blinking, "that was easy, ya see our feet were against one of the chimneys."

"What?" I asked, incredulous.

"Oh, well her feet were against that chimney and I was happy to have it there." Willie reached his arm down to fish for his glass and picked it up with agility in telling the tale as he sipped more.

"Why?" I asked.

"Well… how else do you think I…" he faltered.

"What?" I wondered in anticipation.

"Threw myself… into… her…" he finally stated with an expanded exhale of breath.

"Oh!" I almost panted, "Oh… oh, my…"

"Didn't think you'd hear that from _me_, eh?" he asked.

"Well," I wavered, "I'd _hoped_ to."

"Really?" he questioned, in disbelief, resting his head on his elbow facing me from his bed.

"Oh, of course, Willie… come on now…" I said, reaching my arm out, "don't you understand?" he took my hand, "That we want you to be happy, too?"

"Oh…" he answered in perplexed bemusement, "I wanted ta think so, but… yeh, know…"

"Willie Loomis," I affirmed, "Please… _you_ know this… you _know_ we want this kind of thing… AND to hear about it."

He let go of my hand, "Well, then I can tell ya… it ended more… b'...beautifully than I could have ever told ya."

"Oh?" I dared to ask.

"Yes… I… well…"

"Don't be shy _NOW_, Willie! You have me rolling on your bedroom floor already!"

He brought himself to a sitting position on his bed, clasped his own hands and bent his head down in that usual laughter that was so appropriate for him, "Oh… I know, Maggie, I know… and I'd so often wished this kind of thing... between us…"

"I understand... but, you know, you have _her_ now… so…"

"Yes, yes," he answered, still laughing, with head down. "I threw myself into her… because… because…"

"She wanted you to?" I asked.

"Yeah," he finally admitted, "and like I said… it was… warm… and I was… I dunno…"

"Sated? Satisfied?" I asked.

"Oh… nooo," he answered, "I wanted her even more then. I… I just couldn't get enough a'her then."

"Oh?" I asked, "what did you do?"

"I kept going… a'course," he answered, in an exasperated heave, " and I… I … I kissed her everywhere that I could. I… wanted her all over… her stomach, her legs, he arms, her lips, her face… I just… suddenly… wanted it all…"

"And your foot?" I wondered to him.

"Ah," he giggled, "my foot did overtime, I'm sure… I needed those bricks… to _get to her_… _further_…"

There was a long silence…

I shifted my knee up, my foot flat on the floor, put my wrists on my knee and rest my cheek there staring at his more blissful repose.

"Oh," I finally asked, "Willie, that's beautiful… why are you stopping now?"

"Well," he finally said, falling back on his bed with a spring-back thud, "I don't know how to tell ya the rest."

"How you…" I dared.

"Well… _drove_ myself inta her?"

I laughed, relentlessly, "Yes! Tell me… how did you accomplish that, Willie?"

"Well," he laughed, "we _did_ have our feet against that chimney… so… ya know… I used it."

"Oh?" I asked, "you used your feet against the chimney for leverage?"

He laughed, "Yeh, I did and yeh know what she did when kissed me then?"

"I won't even guess," I answered, "_you_ tell me."

"She took her tongue and licked the roof of my mouth…" he said, breathing out dreamily.

"Oh," I whispered, "well… I… well… how did that feel?"

"Oh… Josette Dupres… you _know_ how that feels, don't cha?"

And that's when I knew… Willie Loomis finally understood, through the gift of love, who I really was.

"Thank you, Willie Loomis." I said.

"For what," he asked.

"For calling me that, finally."

"Ah… Josette…" he offered, now intoxicated "how couldn't I_?"_

"Willie," I told him, reaching for his hand again, and him, lying on his bed, accepting mine, "do you love her?"

He chuckled in that usual way he had, "Oh, Josette Dupres, how could I not love her? I want her now, even as I hold your hand. I want _her_… I want her to lay with me here. But you…. You… Josette Dupres… ya've helped to make this all possible… tell me… Maggie… will you help us? Will you always be our friend?"

I had to give a whispering echo of tears, I was too happy to shed more than that. "Willie Loomis," I resolved, "_that_ girl is moving _into_ this house!"

Willie Loomis laughed happily, taking his hand away, and crossing both hands over his chest, "I knew it… I _knew_ it… ya've always known us… ya've always known us_ all_… and I will happily take that other bedroom… if that's what ya want." He looked at the ceiling in retrospect of that incident he had with his lady love on the rooftop of Collinwood.

"Of course," I prompted, "I _want_ you to change rooms, Willie… but… did you… did you two… complete each other than night?"

Willie Loomis turned his head to his right to face me, "Margaret Josette Dupres, _ye' know_… _we did_… in more ecstasy than I ever understanded in all my life." Then he shifted himself to rest on his side to face me, "Josette Dupres, don't you know you've changed us all, _and_ me, with all this happiness now?"

"No," I told him, reaching to him on my knees, "it's not just _me_ that's changed this place… it's _you_, and your strong heart… Willie Loomis… that have changed us all." Then I stroked his hair and kissed him on the cheek.


	21. Chapter 21: Tony's Proposal (To Carolyn)

_I'm not sure why this novel came into being. I think it was to keep me focused on my end goal result for "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows". (And a gift from Barnabas & Josette to save my marriage.) I don't have a ton of people to discuss it with, but thankfully I do have a few people now and I do want it to be both my venture and yours. There are things I want to see, but if there is anything you'd like me to add, I'm happy to hear it.(Although I do intend to stop canon-story flow after The Leviathans. No 1970's BIG HAIR! YUCK!)_

_And yes, I do believe 100 episodes of "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" won't be so hard a year or two down the road. As I've been told it's like the soap opera all over again but with a new twist. And my Aunt has done performances on the radio that are over 300 episodes, so... I know it can be done. I'm hoping this scene Carolyn remembers will be in an episode._

_What I find fascinating is many writers and readers are becoming more and more touched by Tony & Carolyn b/c of its potential and not seeing it done before or not much. To me where I interrupted Dark Shadows it was obvious. I watched an episode looking for another detail and it was the one where Carolyn was so upset what with Tony being all weird via Cassandra and he was so upset, too. And I almost screamed, "Okay, you two, okay! I'm on it! I'll make it right!"_

Dedicated to... Osheen Navoy: Keeper of the Torch for Bill Malloy!

(And I HIGHLY recommend the Vanessa Carlton song at the end from her album "Rabbits on The Run". It's got that 1960's vibe.)

* * *

Chapter 21: Tony's Proposal

The two Carolyn's were wrapping up their meeting. These two, of course were Miss Carolyn Stoddard and Mrs. Carolyn Muir. They were often amused how this could confuse some people, but as like two people with the same first name, they never were confused by it. They simply knew from the context of any sentence which one of them was meant when someone spoke to them.

The publishing business they put together hadn't thrived... yet, but it certainly was bringing in a decent sense of accomplishment from the both of them. The best seller so far was the one that the ghost of Captain Gregg and the ghost of Bill Malloy had told together by combining their tales of sea and shore. It had turned out rather short as the two men had the note-taking women in stitches with all their salty-dog appeal.

At first Captain Gregg was telling the tale and explaining what Bill Malloy had to say about it until Bill finally remembered just how it worked that Captain Gregg created a corporeal and audible representation of his ghostly form. Finally, Bill Malloy was seen again in Collinsport and beyond after such a long absence.

"As the torrents fall among the sails, tossed our vessel through the frosty gales..." breezed ol' Bill in an intoxicated swing of words made in a slight slur with the libation of Madeira the Captain always seemed to have on hand.

"Aye!" Captain Gregg pointed out, "_just_ the title for our novelette."

"Say again?" asked Bill.

"As The Torrents Fall!" Captain Gregg announced.

The ladies picked themselves up from the floor of Mrs. Muir's workroom and began taking notes again. It had gotten to the point where these ghostly men were almost unintelligible in their collection of witty banter.

Now they were in the Carolyn Stoddard's room at Collinwood. As for the current novel they were looking over, it was Mrs. Muir's longest. It delved into the trials and tribulations of ghostly gatherings along the roads betwixt Schooner Bay and Collinsport. The state of Maine just seemed to be flooded with lost souls at times. Then at other times, it was filled with the type of poltergeists that had such a deft sense of humour one couldn't help but join them in the oddities of the mirth they shared with their living and undead relations.

"It's likely time for me to head home," said Mrs. Muir, sliding a cardboard top over the box of her pages, "but you really think it's good, Carolyn?"

"A little sadder than most," Miss Stoddard told her, "but you rarely miss anything when it comes to setting down all the details. That's what I've enjoyed most about working with you."

"You know," Mrs. Muir hesitated, "you never did tell me how that proposal came to be. You promised me you would when I called you today to come by."

Carolyn Stoddard, lying down on her stomach over her bed, looked down at her ring, a fair diamond set in a claw of gold. As many young lovers of the feminine variety do, she glanced there and fiddled with it. An engagement ring; A ring that would never meet its stone-less twin. And so, Carolyn Stoddard explained.

* * *

It was a ripening sunset along the shore and Tony Peterson had more on his mind than any of the usual dates Carolyn and he had enjoyed since he was released from the schemes of Roger's annulled wife. How it all came about he was never sure, but sometimes he'd hear a tongue twister and be reminded of this terrible hypnotist act he'd gone to see one night. It was never quite clear to him what had happened to him. However it _was_ clear to him what was happening now. He was in love and in love with a staggering hope. Would she say yes? And... might she say it tonight?

What Tony was happy about is that, for once, Carolyn was **not** in a blasted mini-skirt or short dress. No. He'd come to her house and saw that she was doing some wall papering in the East Wing. Somehow Carolyn Stoddard in olive overalls, a long sleeved white shirt and a bandana scarf to cover the top of her head was endearing enough for him to think: Yes, perfect.

Carolyn hadn't gotten so much paste along herself nor her clothes and she was pleased to know there was a distraction downstairs to take her away from the work. Really, there were just so many cobwebs in that place they could start a collection in the Family Diaries about where they found them all and likely how they came about with what happened in all of those rooms.

"Well?" Tony asked, giving her a kiss on the ear.

"Well?" she lightly giggled in response.

"How about a walk along the shore?"

"Sounds wonderful," she answered, moving up to wrap her arms over his head for a lengthy kissing embrace.

* * *

The gulls were in force and thankfully not asking for tid-bits from the couple, nor dropping any unwanted refuse in their way. Sand in the shoes as they pressed about the shore was of little concern.

"Thank you, " Carolyn breathed, "it's been such a long day. Good way to wrap it up like this. Makes me want to take my sneakers off."

"Why don't you?" Tony asked, grinning.

Carolyn almost nodded in kind, "You know? I think I will." Then she sat on a rock untied and pulled away her sensible shoes, neatly placing the pair, socks rolled into them, to her left. She wasn't prepared for what came next...

As she was leaning down she felt the pull and she was lifted up, barefoot, upon the boulder she had been sitting on and there was Tony looking up at her, with his arms around her middle. Carolyn Stoddard wasn't sure what to expect, except that she was very happy... right now...and pressed her lips against his to express it.

Their lips parted and he breathed, "I thought this might be the right time..."

"Oh?" Carolyn asked, "The right time for what?"

"It's why I wanted you above me," Tony said, reaching into the pocket of his trench coat. (No kneeling for this gentleman. Why have his trousers soaked in salt-water sand?)

"Oh..." Carolyn almost whimpered, "now? Tonight?"

Tony was facing down to make sure he was reaching for the right box in his pocket, "Of course, Carolyn, of course."

"Oh, no..." Carolyn hesitated, feeling she wasn't dressed for it, and Tony knew what she was thinking.

"Don't worry about those things, Carolyn... I think this was the right time and I think you look perfect just the way you are."

The box snapped open before her.

"I hope it's enough... to offer everything I have to give... _you._..Carolyn Stoddard."

There she stood, on top of that boulder, which could just as well have been on top of the world. Her face was touched with the sea breeze as her heart was touched more at this yearning of romance. She stared into his adoring hazel-brown eyes, the dark lashes blinking out echoes of her own feelings for him. Her silvery blonde hair were tended to by wisps of enchantment in the softly moving air. The ocean waves lapped and crashed behind her sweetheart, and she stared down at the ring he was offering her along with his passion. Locked together in harmony and matrimony... but... what did that mean, exactly?

"Be my bride, Carolyn Stoddard," Tony begged, looking up at her from where he'd placed her on the rock, "please... be my bride..."

She looked down, as she would a million times again and again at that ring.

"Don't make me answer... just put it on."

He did.

"It's beautiful, Tony... and it's as special as we are..."

"Is that a yes?"

Carolyn gave a sad simper, "I don't think you understand..."

Tony was worried, "What is it, Carolyn? What could make you say no?"

She giggled and snickered and kissed him to which he responded in kind but with some confusion.

"Tony Peterson, I could _never_ say no to you... but what I want to tell you is going to be very different ... to what... you might be expecting... now let us sit down together..."

Tony lifted her again and they sat upon the sands, the sunset turning red before their changing lives. An orange glow spread over their questioning faces.

"Tony... is it possible I could wear this ring... _forever?_"

"Of course it is... I don't care what your answer will be, if you only wear it."

"That's what I was hoping, Tony... you see... "

The waves continued crashing and the gulls squawked...

"After everything... between me and Buzz... between Jason Mcguire and my mother... between her new fellow now... and between you and I..."

"What is it, Carolyn?" he asked, carefully.

Carolyn looked to the setting sun that was almost gone now, and then turned to him again, "I don't want to be married... _ever..._"

Tony listened and he didn't understand except to wonder why all of his yearning so seldom turned out to fit his desires.

"You'll never be mine, will you, Carolyn?" he asked, sorrowfully, accepting defeat already.

Carolyn twisted her new ring and smiled at him, "Of course, I will, Tony."

Tony's world suffered dreadfully in his lack of understanding. A simper tried to come out but the awkwardness of the moment made even this small expression difficult.

"Carolyn... what can you mean?"

"I want to wear this ring forever... and be _yours_... forever... but I don't want to marry... do you understand?"

Tony's eyes brightened, "No, but I'm waiting for you to tell me."

She looked upon him and stroked his glossy dark hair, "With everything my mother has gone through, and what I've been through... well... it's just that... paperwork nonsense. You know? Can't we be happy and together without all of that?"

Tony Peterson reflected on this, at first believing he was receiving a refusal, but in all of his legal studies and profession he recognized _precisely_ what Carolyn meant in grueling paperwork. He became elated, stood and lifted her upright back to the boulder and into his arms. Tony looked up at her and understood.

"I see," he said, " you don't want me... you want... **us**."

"Yes, Tony... that's what I want... so... how about it?"

"How about what?" he questioned, almost reaching her conclusion.

Carolyn Stoddard stared carefully at him, "How about I wear this ring to my dying day... how about I'm yours forever without all that paperwork nonsense? ... how about us being engaged and that's as far as it goes?"

Tony Peterson smiled widely and kissed her passionately, then said, "Engaged? Forever? ... _I'll take it._"

And both Carolyn and Tony knew, that in all of their future, with whomever might voice that all they were doing were "shacking-up"... **they** knew better...

Tony held her up about her middle, her knees around his, and swung her around on the beach, kissing her intently. _It doesn't make any difference now,_ he thought, _this is what I want, this is what I have, and this is what always will be._

* * *

**"I Don't Want To Be A Bride"**

_I like your company_

_Got a fresh philosophy_

_Never knew_

_Such a gentleman_

_You can take me on a cheap vacation_

_I don't wanna have expectations 'cause you_

_Could be the end of me_

_And I don't need a house on a hill_

_A swing on a tree_

_Grandfather Clock_

_Porcelain for tea_

_A garden_

_With rose and Jasmine_

_Gonna get drunk on a bottle of wine_  
_No better way to pass the time_  
_Forever by your side_

_But I don't wanna be a bride_  
_Apologies to your mother_  
_I wanna be your girl_  
_And spend this life with you_  
_But I don't wanna wear white_  
_You know it's too late for that_  
_But can we keep the ever after?_  
_Oh could it be_

_Don't need no golden ring_  
_It'd be no match for the love it brings_  
_From London_  
_To Tennessee_  
_We could_  
_Catch a train to another life_  
_On a whim, under the moonlight_  
_I promise you_  
_Will you promise me?_

_Our last names on a wooden sign_  
_Arm in arm, where the river starts to wind_  
_Forever by your side_

_But I don't wanna be a bride_  
_Apologies to each other_  
_I wanna be your girl_  
_And spend this life with you_  
_But I don't wanna wear white_  
_Oh, you know it's too late for that_  
_But can we keep the ever after?_  
_Oh could it be_  
_Just you and me?_

_I, I, I_  
_We will live like kings_  
_Under lavender_  
_Skies_  
_Skies_  
_We will live like kings_  
_Under lavender_  
_Skies_  
_Skies_

_Built a poem, we kept a rhyme_  
_Wrapped our love in golden twine_  
_We wrote_  
_We wrote a legacy_  
_Just you and me_

_Just like kings under lavender_  
_Skies_  
_Skies_  
_We will_

* * *

By the by, I know _Dark Shadows_ has a TON of problems to fix, but if there are any _Ghost & Mrs. Muir_ fans who want to see a corporeal Captain Daniel Gregg and Mrs. Carolyn Muir married in _The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows_, do let me know! I aim to please. *wink*


	22. Chapter 22: A Candle For Sarah

_"Josette's been so sad for such a long time... I thought maybe she'd like to be happy again so I made her a present... when someone you love has gone away, when you put a candle in your window they'll come home. And I know Josette wants Barnabas to come home because I think she still loves him."_

_" Yes, I think so too."_

_"I miss Barnabas a lot... Mother, I love Barnabas, and I want him to come home."_

_" Barnabas is going to be away in England for a long time, Sarah."_

_" How long?"_

_" Oh, perhaps as long as the life till you're grown up." _

_"I don't think Barnabas wants to stay away from us that long. I'll wait until it's dark. And I'll light the candle and put it in Josette's window. And somehow Barnabas will **know** it's there. And he'll come back to us. You'll see!"_

_Sarah Collins & Naomi Collins in Dark Shadows, Episode 413, written by Gordon Russell._

* * *

Chapter 22: A Candle For Sarah 

My daughter, once Maggie Evans, or Josette Dupres, take your pick or combine them as I've done in persona with myself, was now Margaret Josette Dupres. And no question, at least from me. As a bi-lineal accomplishment to the wonders of this new life in Collinsport, no doubt influenced by that rascally ghost Caleb Collins, we'd decided on an unusual but still culturally French solution to every blasted person around here being named a Collins. I was glad of this idea. There were plenty enough Collins' to go around and more is the pity.

So this lengthy tie-in to those two lives was her married name. It's easier for women to change their name upon marriage as things go, even to a name that isn't her husband's. The only thing altering that is social stigma. It's never been a law to do it as some believe. As Andre Dupres I was happy to sign the witness box on the license even if the name I signed was the common Sam Evans I have now. No shame in the common, of course. That was the whole point of this nation. To build oneself up from a schooner to a massive fleet, as long as good philosophy and hard work was its influence.

And I had been good enough to know when were the times to step into my daughter's business and when it was time to leave well enough alone. She was happy and I was happy knowing that she was. It had been nearly two centuries we both endured reliving old injuries of what should have been long ago and since much of this was healed, my art has never thrived better.

But the ghost of my son-in-law's sister continued to be ever present. Coming into corporeal form at times or being a wisp, still that spirit was alive and aching to be re-united with her brother and my daughter as seldom that the latter two really knew each other. Believe me, they'd bonded considerably by now. (And I had to relieve a chuckle from my heart knowing this little girl had touched Mr. Willie Loomis of all people. Lovely... lovely what little girls can do.)

Sarah Collins would stay with me much of the time when she wasn't playing with David. In the acknowledgement that she was family, the snoots of Collinwood had grown less fussy and accepted her wholeheartedly. Why not? They were usually more soused than I was and at more even intervals. Those Collins put up with a lot, anyway. Ghosts. What's the big deal? Besides, as it oddly turns out, my daughter was one of them. Funny how that worked out. Had to look through a lot of Asiatic tales to uncork the confusion it was causing us. It was high time they stopped denying all the good their spooks had to offer instead of fighting against them so very often!

Ah. I suppose it was at one time considering that blackened sketch I'd created of the main house in its gloomier aspects. I had felt a little embarrassment when Sarah found a copy I'd created. She pointed out that it didn't look that way to her and I confessed that she was correct, so we spent some time in the same area I'd made that tragic looking piece of art and I started another with more detail to its grandeur and loving beauty now than in days of old.

I wouldn't have Sarah be bored though, so I made sure to give her some tools of her own: crayons. She'd never seen them before or at least not this kind as the invention was far different in our old days. Heck, I likely don't recall them at all when I've let my mind wander back to that time. Sarah didn't draw the house, though. She kept her work on nature. She had a good talent for trees and flowers. The trees I especially appreciated because with the wildly colourful creations some kids like to make, this box was getting a rub down out of the usually wasted varieties of brown.

Due to this unique blend of happenings I found some even older crayons I'd kept on hand on the off chance a little one might arrive at the cottage. Later when Sarah asked for help with this project near the end of her time with us I pulled the fragments out along with the rest of the supplies I'd gathered.

I set an old skillet on the stove I wasn't too worried about ruining and filled it with water. Turned up the heat and let it get hot, as I discussed with my ghostly daughter-of-sorts what her plans would be.

"Well, you see," she began in her high lilting, Colonial accent, "I'd made a candle long ago for Josette's window because we both missed Barnabas and we loved him. So I thought... why not... make one... for myself?"

"Huh... had you, now?" I asked, "Why would you want to make one for yourself?"

"Because, I'll have to be leaving... tonight... and... I'd like to come back... but not_ this_ way. You see?" Sarah reasoned.

I stroked my beard, "Hmm... Sarah... do you mean... you'll be coming back the way Josette and I came back?"

"As myself..." she looked down, "I'm not sure how to describe it."

"Flesh and bones, you mean..." I offered her.

"Yes," she answered, "and... looks like the water is boiling, Monsieur Dupres."

She was almost right, it was ready. One had to simmer this water and I grabbed the pie tin with the hunks of beeswax I'd already placed on it. Then I set it down on the simmering water and the two of us watched it slowly melt in the pan.

"How will we create the wick?" she questioned.

"Ah!" I responded with no reluctance, "here is the twine I have. The thicker the better... although, my dear, one mustn't use **rope**."

Our little girl giggled, "Yes... and what do we colour it with?"

I ah-ha' d again bringing out the coffee tin of crayons. She'd wanted purple for some strange purpose she couldn't tell me, so we started with melting bits of red and blue. Not the greatest idea. Didn't turn as purple as she would have liked. So we found the various purple crayons and watched those melting in the pan and then a darker, fuller purple came about from the odd swirl of colour amidst all the wax and richness. Then came where to put this melted wax.

Somehow managing not to slice myself, I'd cut the top off of a can of beer, knotted the twine around a stick and let it set across the top of the open can as I asked Sarah why she couldn't explain herself as well as we all needed her information.

"Oh," she admitted with a sleepy grin, stirring the wax above the bubbling water underneath the pie-tin with an old paintbrush I didn't care about, "it's all like dreams to me, Monsieur Dupres. I see some things, I can talk about them, but I can't always understand them myself."

"Ah," I nodded, "perhaps you're looking forward to the day _a-l-l_ of those faculties will be brought to you as a human being, Sarah Collins."

She turned from the stove and smiled at me, "I'm not sure what you mean, but I think you're right." Then she let go a vocal sigh and continued, "It looks all melted now."

"All right," I heaved, picking up a few unsentimental pot holders. I took two curves of the pie tin and poured them into the beer can with the twine. Sarah looked on, and watched the inevitable spills of wax, gathering them up with cotton cloths I'd set aside and should have thrown out months ago. Just as well to use them up this way.

It was a cool enough evening to take the wax filled beer can outside and let it harden more thoroughly. Sarah and I sat outside while we waited patiently, knowing the candle would have to set for hours this way and not caring, just enjoying the evening. I had a cup of Irish Coffee prepared for this time of contemplation anyway.

The stars beamed out toward us and there were golden, silvery silences as well as an odd interest of whatever wildlife decided to make noise between the stillness she and I were sharing. I dipped my finger in the cut beer can of wax and pulled back, flaking off the bits that had hardened on my fingertip to the ground.

"Sam Evans," she finally called me by my modern name, "what does it mean to be... reincarnated?"

I sipped my whiskey laden vessel, "Oh, well..." then I set the cup on its saucer and poured again from both the coffee thermos I'd set out as well as the flask beside it, "my dear daughter-in-law, reincarnation means to live again in a new body. Sometimes we remember what we lived before and sometimes we forget, but either way... you see those stars up there, my girl?"

"Of course," she told me, looking up.

"That up there, Sarah Collins, is the vast stretch of the universe, which we know little about. But it guides us, it watches over us and very likely it IS us altogether. Do you understand?"

"No... not exactly, but I think... I know what you mean... like those dreamlike ideas I can't understand enough to explain to anyone."

I chortled happily in my further intoxication, "Sarah Collins, I think it's time you and we were parted to become better people. Am I right?"

"Yes, Monsieur Dupres, I think you're very much correct."

I'll admit, I wasn't very sober when we left. Likely driving through the town of Collinsport to get to The Old House, where my daughter now lived with her excessively romantic husband, wasn't the brightest of ideas, but then again, I had Sarah's ghost to guide me through possible rough terrain, not that we encountered any. The best part, in all its dire heat, Sarah was able to hold on to the beer can with its still hardening wax as I drove and I winked at her as she did so. That would be something she couldn't do if it weren't for her supernatural aspects.

A familiar face in an austere butler outfit answered the door with a turned down grin. That man always knew what was going on and rightly so. He ushered us in. I relieved my coat on a hanger as Sarah pressed forward and Maggie gave out a surprised greeting.

"So," I teased, "honeymoon over yet, Maggie?"

"No," she laughed, "I have my doubts that it ever will be."

"And rightly so," I told her, "bizarre enough to share times of old and new in terms of being reborn. Plenty of other ghastly creations in this town. I'm just pleased for what you and Barnabas are; supernatural in ability but far more human in aspect and appearance."

"Well I wasn't going to go through with it if it was going to turn ghastly, I can tell you that." Maggie admitted in that chortling way she had.

"Ah," I said, "but I speculate there are times that it does."

"That's true, Pop... there are times. What have you got there, Sarah?"

"Another candle for you, Josette," the little girl explained, finding the ice bucket beside the davenport. It had almost been removed by Wadsworth before she reached in to place the can of candle in it to cool. I could see the wax had almost set.

"Another one?" my daughter asked.

"Oh, yes. We thought Barnabas had gone to England and we both missed him so I made a candle to put by your window for him. Then I saw him, of course. You likely remember the rest."

"No-o-o need to dwell on that, you two," I told them, sitting down, "How about you find your old brother and bring him out here, Sarah. You likely know where he is."

Sarah wandered to the staircase and padded up. Maggie sat down in the armchair and leaned forward, "How are the paintings coming along, Papa?"

"Oh, fine. Not always so dazzling when I lose a brush filament into the scenery, especially if it's a cloud or something, but that's what tweezers are for."

She laughed and then sighed. Leaning her elbows on her knees she folded her hands and rested her chin on them. Her demeanour became sadly concerned, "Pop. It's Sarah isn't it?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. But I wouldn't be too worried about it. This is only the last time you see her as a _ghost_ is all."

"Oh?" Maggie sat up with surprise, hands now in lap, "you mean like us, Pop?"

"Sure," I said, happily, "Why not?"

"Well," slightly flustered here, "whose having any kids around here? Carolyn's certainly not of the mind. She's enjoying her work too much. Is it... Victoria?"

"Margaret Josette Dupres," I gave her a grin, "why does it have to be somebody _else?"_

She stiffened further and rubbed her knees with her hands. Then almost gasping, "I'm... I'm not ready for that. I'm not even sure we're capable of that."

"Who said you were? What? Did you think you were going to instantaneously sprout stretch marks and balloon up overnight and suddenly spring forth a child tomorrow?"

She snorted a laugh, "No, no. I see."

"If you want it, it will happen, Maggie. But you've got to _want_ it first and that might take awhile. We both know how these things work. It takes time. That's why Sarah has to leave now. That's what the candle is for. The last one she made you was to bring Barnabas back. This one is for her to _come_ back... through you... and him."

Footfalls came down the steps and Sarah reached us, asking if the candle was done. I took a look at it and it had finally cooled. Then I carefully found a serrated edge to peel back the thin metal and the wrapping coiled off like a singular strip of potato skin, minus the difference in texture. Then I gave it to Sarah.

Sarah stepped toward Maggie in the chair, "This is for you, when you miss me, you can light it in your window. You won't forget, will you?"

Maggie took the candle and looked at it in all its uneven shape, the only splendour being the love it was made with. Her tears came and she hugged the child who'd come to mean so much to us, and God Willing, would do so again someday.

"No. I won't forget, Sarah... dear... you mean so much to us. You know that don't you?"

"I thought so, but it's impolite to boast, you know."

"Hardly a boast," I said, "to know what you mean to others?"

"Sarah," Maggie touched the girl's hair, "have you said goodbye to everyone?"

"Mmm-hmm," she nodded, "Wadsworth was very regal about it, of course. Willie was awfully sad but he understood. I'm not sure about Roger Collins. He says things and I don't know what they mean exactly. But I let David and Elizabeth know I'd try to come back. I just wasn't certain how."

"Saved up the hardest for last, I see," said I.

Sarah turned to me with some sorrow, "Yes. Barnabas. I told him to wait upstairs so that we could all go up."

And so we did. Right into Josette's room. Fitting again as likely this would be the place Sarah would _be_ conceived. Not that I dwell much on what goes on in _here_. Our archivist and Victoria Winters can do all the dwelling they want to if it pleases them. Ahem!

Barnabas Collins stood there, as suited and vested as he normally is and with that same dismal expression we remembered from so long ago considering what was happening and how little he understood it. The woe on his face brought to mind the broo-ha of that mess with Jeremiah Collins and it's unfortunate results. I probably should lay off my wise-cracks on the guy now that even _he'd_ redeemed his memory.

Sarah Collins took the candle from Josette and place it at her window. Not the same window nor the same room when she had done this before but the same feeling of beloved ritual. Barnabas knelt there before her stroking the long trailing of her brown hair.

"What does this mean, Sarah?" he beseeched, "Are you truly going away from us now?"

"I have to, Barnabas," she confessed, "or else I can't come back."

"Why not, my dear?" here he held her tenderly by the arms.

"Barnabas, the way I keep coming back is hard... and not just for me but the others helping me to do it. I want to come back for keeps but that's going to take a long time."

"Why will it take so long?"

"I need to... prepare... and you both need to be ready... to take care of me too."

"But we've taken care of you so far. Isn't that enough?" he slid his hands down her arms, gently taking her fingers.

"Not the way I need to come back. But don't be sad. Look forward to it. I am."

Here he let go one of her hands and in his kneel reached the other to his lips, "Every day and night, Sarah, I'll look forward to it every day and night."

She smiled to the point of a giggle. He had to ask what that was for, releasing his agonized look somewhat. Then she said, "I don't know if you've kissed my hand like that before. You always do it with all the other ladies."

A sad but pleasant look dawned on him, "Yes, and they're usually grown ladies. But you have taught _us_ to grow and that makes you the finest of ladies in the world, Sarah Collins."

Sarah then embraced her brother and her eyes became misty as his brimmed. We were all in danger of tears now as my own view of the scene clouded. He held her strongly in return which was both touching and painful, reminding me of the deaths of my wife and for whatever reason she left us both times.

"And I'll be good, my dear," he uttered shakily, "I _promise_ you... I will be."

"I know you will, Barnabas. It's because you have her. That's why I came back."

Sarah released him and then reached out toward Maggie and she stepped by their side. Sarah let go and pedalled backwards closer to the curtain. I love you's were spoken brokenly and she and I exchanged delicate waves, although mine likely appeared more like a salute in my weakening state. Then she began to fade as she had often done before but in this instant there was a light that shined, becoming a group of iridescent orbs trailing into a mist which shed itself from sight.

She was gone.

The home of Barnabas Collins and Margaret Josette Dupres was childless once more, but the two stood holding each other softly and stroking each others backs.

It must have been one long minute before anyone spoke, and I knew from the usual manner of my son-in-law that naive question would come out.

"What did she mean by coming back?" he questioned her, "Why would we need to be ready?"

Maggie would likely tell him, but this was my cue to step out of the room. You see, I was _biting my tongue_ with how obvious it was to me and ought to have been to him. In the preternatural scheme of things around here it was clear to me that their conceiving a child would be no easy task, but that was what Sarah, Maggie and I had all understood. No question of it.

I closed the door of her room to let them alone and finally breathed aloud, "**Go** to bed with your bride one of these nights, Barnabas Collins... and _y-o-u'l-l_ figure it out."

A dark figure stepped out from a shadow with a knowing grin.

"Yes, sir," nodded the butler, "he will."

* * *

_Please leave commentary. Sam was talking to me detailing all of this out when I was standing in line at the market buying my grocieries and I didn't understand. Now I do, and I hope you do as well. Thanks_


	23. Reflections: How All This Came To Be

_Yes, there shall be more chapters of this post-marriage story, but first a brief interlude..._

* * *

Reflections: How This All Came To Be

This intriguing Author's Note is written in first person by me. Yes, this is Daryl Wor speaking to my audience, and hopefully any friends who are very pleased that things have turned out so well for my spouse and I recently. It's wonderful to know you dear but far away kindred souls are so happy for us rather than grinding your teeth in envy. (Hence my wanting to publish this book in print. If it helped us in all our complexity it might help a LOT of people and I'd like to find a way to share the love, even to non DS fans. Some erotica readers WILL take anything. *smile*)

I wanted to add this augmented letter I wrote to a pen friend because I felt it was a good summary of how all of this came about. Just in case any readers are wondering how I managed to come up with this stuff. As aforesaid, it isn't really easy. I've had to become the characters in empathizing with the well-being they were starving for. In fact some of you may be wondering about my gender: I am a **woman** and my husband is a **man**. And the creation of this novel bled its healing power into our marriage by being so incredibly passionate. I have never come so close to really knowing what it was like for a man to be with a woman... and then for me to be... THIS man and THIS woman? GOOD HEAVENS!

Mind you, we have not explored as these two have explored but we've come close. I want to express to you my husband and I do not venture escapades on cliffs nor on rooftops. (And neither have we broken any beds... yet.) Our healed marriage was inspired by this couple who insisted on being heard in their ecstasy since last Autumn (2013) And because of their influence I woke up one morning with a swollen knee! :/ Must have been one heck of a night! (Ice-packs for over a week. I'm not kidding! Not the funnest plight to limp to the market and back for groceries with no car.)

* * *

Dear "Pen Pal",

While I had a cold for over a month, I took advantage of this visual influence I had for Barnabas & the reincarnated Josette being married… and what would it be like when they finally got upstairs at that old house of his and into her bedroom he'd been keeping sacred for an eternity?

Well! **That** skill of mine took me places I **NEVER** thought I could go. Hope you don't mind **dirt** because you're about to hear some! (And I've never written smut before.) I sat down an hour before having to go to work just thinking, "OK, work it out for some post coital discussion material you could make clean with their clothes on."

Let me tell you, those two were _REPRESSED!_ I knew a photo of at least one of the actors in his bathing suit so that helped. Then as I pictured them in the room on the bed there was all this "gauze" in my mind's eye that I literally was trying to move away with my hands. Next I got the wedding night scene and as it revealed itself to me I was in shock:

"BOOMPH! AH! NAKED! AH! Throw some blankets on! AH!" :S

_Okay, that's better._

"Wow…" I thought, as I watched, "...wow… um, okay,_ that's_ severe… whoah… hey, they just fell off the bed…. Wow, they're rolling around the room in the bedclothes… yikes! They're knocking stuff over! **CRAP!** That 1795 portrait of her over the fireplace just fell off the wall they _rammed_ themselves into! GOOD NIGHT!"

You can only imagine my reaction. I literally shook in my seat! Didn't expect _that_ scene to appear before me.

So, I take those pictures in my mind to work with me.

As I'm doing some boring testing for one patient, the pictures come back into my head while I sit there. "A-ha," I realize, "So **this** is what people think of at work when they're bored." :)

As time went on I got my post-coital discussion and continued with whatever… Then I noticed…

Hmmmmmm... I've been frigid for about eight years now… hmm… I seem to be gradually interested again.

And with how complex **I** am, of _COURSE_ it would take some 200 year old vampire and a triple-reincarnation of his long lost love to melt MY ICE. So with that on my mind, and some wine in my stomach, there are a number of_ pleasant_ evenings around here. ;)

One night after this experience, I step to the keyboard and say, "I'm going to write some smut!"

Throw on music that will inspire as well as listening to some love story that always seemed to turn me on, I let Barnabas take over to write out the scene... I steered clear of vulgar word usage and as a friend of mine expressed, it's unlike anything she's read before. And she reads LOTS of porn. (I don't.)

Then my cold ensued for that month I couldn't finished Episode 7 of "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" and I could really do nothing else. No recording or voice acting. So I stayed home on Thanksgiving and the madness continued with the smut and the love scenes and **this** is going to be the beautiful Collinsport I helped to reach them to in all it's more subdued but spooky glory.

There are currently over 50,000 words of it. And that ain't the radio drama so don't expect me to _ever_ read it out loud! The radio drama currently has about 100,000 words written.

However if you ARE into that and manage to read it, DO reflect to me your insights on it. I'm not looking for "Good Job!" because frankly, after 8 years of writer's block and anhedonia and frigidity, I already *KNOW* it's good! Hee hee hee… In all my social isolation and loneliness it's almost all I've got… except my _renewed married **bliss**._

Ah, at last! And, after combing for stories about that vampire and his woman finally getting each other and never finding any, NOW I get to sit back and look: Yep! That's a Happy Man… _FINALLY!_

* * *

As Annette Hanshaw likes to say at the end of each of her songs: "That's all." :)


	24. Chapter 23: Summary & Kitty Soames Notes

Summary of Chapter 23 & Fun Notes about Kitty Soames being Josette Dupres:

Since I'm planning on publishing this novel, and my contact from that firm called me twice in one week while I was still back on chapter 6, I know that book publishers aren't keen on printing material that's already been online to read for free. Hence 3 chapters of this novel will be the bonus tracks, which yes *smile* will include the bathtub chapter.

What's missing for this one is coming back to Maggie's memories as both Kitty Soames **and** Josette Dupres, along with Kitty Soames **as** Josette Dupres in the retcon that splits Dark Shadows from 1897 to 1795 (though, bless the overworked writers/actors, they got the year dates wrong in the program).

Again, we have John Sullivan from the 2000 film "Frequency" to get a good understanding of Maggie's regression ability from "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows, Episode 12: Dark Therapy". (Another reason my performance of this is freaking me out because I will have to channel all three of the ladies to form them into one as well as re-living Maggie through her kidnapping with Barnabas. The crying and screaming this involves is something I'm **not** looking forward to other than as a personal challenge.)

But with John Sullivan's new memories folding over old ones again and again is a good example of what Maggie Evans has to face with both Josette's original life and death and Kitty's retcon **of** Josette's life and death. Unfortunately Kitty will have to die as in the original program so that when "The Doctor" comes to rescue Barnabas and wipe out The Leviathans he will remind Barnabas that the whole purpose of going back to 1897/1795 was to redeem himself so that Maggie could trust him as the honourable man he was and wished to be again by helping the family and David's existence in the 1960's. She wants him but knows he has to prove his worth. According to this novel it's already happened but this is a far jump ahead in my plans of the radio drama.

This bedroom chapter involves Barnabas having turned away in bed and as many a haunted and harmed dreamer, Maggie is now facing her previous lives as both Josette and Kitty/Josette. She sees his back, she sees him turning away and also because she doesn't see his face she's reminded of the spell and being in bed with Jeremiah who she only loved because Angelique bewitched her and is a female pronoun that surpasses RUDE beyond all of our wildest imaginings. Seeing a shady form of a bareback and dark hair after having a dream of that time... yikes! Could be anyone...

Of course, Barnabas hears her crying and faces her immediately, touching her in all the tenderness he can bestow. He knew that this evening would come and prays he can do his best to comfort her. She needs love and his love in the proof to break her from what she's haunted by. The proof that he's there. The proof that the present is real.

This also goes back to Episode 13 of "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" (still in audio production). Julia and Barnabas have an argument after Maggie's regression therapy. Of course, Julia is angry as she was the instrument in her therapy but more so because, as many fans agree, "What the hell is it about Maggie or Josette that makes her so damn perfect?"

Barnabas is pretty pissed-off at this assumption and tells her it's something more, it's _divine_, "Or don't you even know what that means?"

I got closer to what he meant in creating this chapter because in the middle of one position Maggie and Barnabas make-love in he stops and explains what he means by her being divine. He tells her, ""Divine has a meaning other than the idea of perfection, my Josette. To me, it encompasses the natural beauty of all things from the largest wonders, to the pettiest trifles. It's a blending, and though highly grand, also contains some things which are not at peace nor superb."

It took me a while searching through religious and spiritual websites to find out what he meant. Even I, your author, was not sure why he kept insisting on this either. :/

Then we have them continuing in a more standard position. Barnabas continues with a precision of something she needs as he's been gentle but she wants a little more and a little more and... well, I think you get the idea. ;) He succeeds and she's much better.

So! In order to relieve any unnecessary suspense, and save on chapter space, I have decided to add some old notes of mine that I took in letter/journal writing form to give DS fans the tool they need to understand the strong purpose in Kitty Soames, also known as Lady Hampshire. I understand her brief existence on the show compared to how long many characters remained can leave viewers and fans with an assumptive knowledge of her.

I have not only studied Josette Dupres, Maggie Evans and Kitty Soames, I spent much of last year extensively studying reincarnation which is how I found the signs that all three of these women could be, and are to me, one woman. I praise Dr. Ian Stevenson very highly but mostly because he is the main researcher whose name I can remember. R. I. P.

As you know me, I do my homework and I do it as thoroughly as I can. I don't do Alternate Universe, I do Interruption which is rare to uncommon in Dark Shadows fan work. If I wanted Anything-Goes material I would have dropped the need for Kitty Soames. However, I care about this project and I want it to be an authentic representation of _Dark Shadows_ to be enjoyed by whoever wants it to relieve their own suffering in the desire that these characters loving personas could finally find contentment and an easier life. (And to find my own kindred souls. Maybe THEN people will stop harping on that goofy 2012 movie and give ME some damn credit. LOL!)

Anyway, if one has not so much knowledge of Kitty Soames? Well, here ya go. :)

* * *

_Just some notes I took to a pal when I was up for ages skipping through all the other nonsense distracting me from this major story component I realised I needed to get accurately down for "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows". Many aren't sure of the Kitty Soames mess, so here's a goofy explanation in all my usual variety of slang._

_I was going to get rid of the swearing, but after seeing what passes for a T-rating around here, it doesn't seem to matter unless you've got the f-word or worse... Besides, it's kind of funny to describe in a conversational way. We all pretty much know how semi-bland the original dialogue might sound at times._

* * *

884 & 886 (disk 91) Figuring out the Lady Hampshire broo-ha

This all post Kitty and Barnabas morphing into Josette's painting. Hmm! Unique time-travel method! Is this like when people walk through mirrors?

But WOW! What a pile of unique team work. Barnabas awakens via this weird portrait time travel thing somewhere in the brush, with his even OLDER clothes on. "Oh good! I still have my cane!" he seems to think as he reaches for it, stands up and BOOMPH! There's BEN! YAY! In all his murky, poor-man-with-bad-haircut glory.

Hence the land of confusion (as Genesis sings) begins in the turmoil of "Where's Kitty?" and Ben's TOTALLY confused like, "What the HELL are you talking about Mr. Barnabas?" Then the dialogue goes something like this.

Wait? What year is it? What day? What hour? What was happening? Did we meet at the shed yet? No? You were coming to look for me there and couldn't find me? Okay... now, did Josette jump? No? Okay? (Various confused references back to Kitty, to which Ben is just getting worried by, much less baffled.) Well, what had I been up to that night? Shoot! This is a pain! Is she? Oh, not at the Old House? Well you have to get her thereto her old room... or as he would normally say, and says A LOT to Ben at this point "You MUST do this and you MUST do that." Whatta guy. :)

So Josette, waking up in her room in the NEW house, assumes the whole life as Kitty Soames was a dream as Aunt Natalie is pacing around the room to make sure the prophecy of her jumping off the cliff won't happen. Well, Josette won't have that.

Meanwhile, Barnabas figures out Angelique is still hanging around (Wait! didn't he already marry and shoot her? Bah! Maybe it's some ghost version or something, WHO knows?) So he talks to her to say, "YO! Don't be tricking Josette to jump off the cliff, you ho."

To which Angelique goes "Oh, why should I? Aren't you just going to turn her into a vampire?"

"No! Not this time! It ain't happening! I got me a solution."

And of course she's almost Cassandra doe-eyed here and asks, "You really love her don't you?"

(Told my spouse this as he got ready for work, he nearly swallowed his toothpaste!)

Anyway, as you may likely expect Barnabas to respond to THIS question: "NO SHIT, BITCH!"

"Well, why should I? What do I get out of it?"

And he says, as stolidly as possible, "I'd be REALLLLLLLLLLY GRATEFUL!"

And her quaint response is, "I do wish you would use the word LOVE when it came to ME!"

At this point in my telling it all to my own love, he spit out his toothpaste and said, "OKAY! I would LOVE it if you would NOT do that!"

(Somewhere in all of this there are quite a few coughs off screen. Ah well.)

And so Angelique doesn't agree and fades off in some blue-screen special effect.

And THEN, the scene comes about where _again_ Josette trips out on her fricken music box opening on its own, but HEY! we didn't see the WIRE that opened it this time! Good job guys! And she hears Barnabas calling her out to the cliff, which is obviously some fool witchery trick. So out Josette goes again to the cliff to see the vision of her turning into a vampire!

"Oh big whoop, girl," I say, "Live forever at night and feast on bastards the world doesn't need anyway," but it's long ago and no one's figured that out yet.

BUT! Will Barnabas come to scare her, and she'll jump as He, yet again NOT jump after her?

"Here he comes!" the voice of Angelique taunts as you hear steps along the cliff. But WAIT!

**It's a "Star Trek: The Next Generation" style SWITCH-A-ROO! ^_^**

It's Countess Aunt Natalie! Yay! I guess Barnabas got her to go in his stead! Nice work!

So Josette's all safe and whatnot (as if THAT'S gonna last, darn soap-opera!) and hanging out with, YAY, Millicent, who is as silly as ever and baffled at this vial of poison Josette randomly had. Why IS it they either drag it on in this show, or stuff the entire universe into one episode?

Rarely does there seem to be any middle of the road!

Or as my paramour bespoke: "All right! We've dragged this out with enough shit, time to wrap things up and move on to something new!" LOL! Cracks me up. He really rushed through that explanation like a bored film director.

Meanwhile Barnabas and Natalie are hashing out the details, though he did help her to save her niece, she still doesn't buy that Barnabas won't mess with Josette badly. Of course we have an admirable Barnabas in this new 1790's, but still Natalie won't cooperate, so he tries to hypnotise her but she looks away, then she finally turns around slowly to take a peep and WHOOSH!

Out come the fangs! YAY! Good job.

So, Natalie is now cooperating, though shaky, meets up with Millicent, tells Josette to go to her new house bedroom...

So there's Barnabas to try and explain to his scared Josette (who was once Kitty somehow...) many flubs along the way to this new 1796, (well, if continuity was done better it would be 1795,) then of course this confuses our lady as Barnabas tries to tell Josette/Kitty/Whoever to go back with him to 1896 (again the continuity would be 1897).

And FINALLY, after much nervous arguing, we get some SMOOCHING!

Thank you!

Although, with all the coughing continuing through these various episodes off camera, it wasn't very passionate, so I must presume there was some cold going around they may not have been trying to catch.

Considering THOSE two, though, I would expect them to have sucked each other's heads off and swallowed.

"SHEEZ!" my chap said to that, "That was extreme!"

"Well, so are they," I laughed.

I may not have gotten Kitty all that accurate in my own episode 12, but it ought to be an easy fix. Still! I was very close! Surprisingly close for not knowing much about her at all. Got a few other lines I need to change, too. That was mainly what I was looking for and I knew it would rend my heart, but at least there was some hope and teamwork in there. (And so Next-Gen style too! That impresses me for 1969 TV much less THIS show! I can't remember if they managed that on OS Trek... Anyone know?)

I watched a little more and then saw the Leviathans, grabbed my sweet-hearts various Sonic Screw- driver toys and aimed them at the screen.

_That was fun. A purple glow grew upon their faces. Now do you know why I want reviews and feedback and laughs and encouragement? This could go on from 50-100 episodes and won't it be fun to get all the way there? I'm only human; humans need that kind of thing to kick-start their endeavours._

_As Dr. Emmett Brown from "Back To The Future" says in this lovely quotation "If my calculations are correct, when this baby hits 88 miles per hour... you're gonna see some serious shit."_

_Take care, gentle readers..._


	25. Chapter 24 Summary

Chapter 24 Summary:

This Hidden Chapter reveals another passionate evening. Barnabas expresses the ritual he shares with Maggie of lighting the candles each night as well as her continued alterations of being a blend of all three women. She does this in her clothes and in the way she styles her hair. She shows it in her change of speech.

After coming through many troubles, and healing from that, the stronger powers as being otherworldly, however human in appearance, begin to grow. There were shifts in previous chapters wherein they could hear each other's thoughts, but that depleted when Maggie began remembering the kidnapping stronger. This would likely happen because she believes she's faced the truth in this marriage but when things aren't strictly dealt with in a way that compounds true expression and healing, the torment resurfaces. Bad things come to haunt us all; similarly with both Kitty and Josette.

A previous chapter explores that pain of Kitty and Josette being left behind by Barnabas or being frightened of him with exaggerated knowledge of his curse. Enacting the love scene on Widow's Hill was also important to change the fear to peace.

Yep! I, your author, am likely **far** more like Dr. Julia Hoffman as a psychologist than anyone ever knew. :)

With much of these needs met for the healing process, however passionate Josette and Barnabas now exist to be, a further realm is explored: That of being able to bond in both knowledge and conversation of thought. The love they share would likely boost this ability or make it more possible than in standard Dark Shadows telepathy. Usually thoughts are sent to a victim of a vampire rather than a mutual communication, and of course, considering the master & servant element in Dark Shadows, usually it isn't just a thought, it's a command.

What a show during the Summer of Love! LOL! Still, I shall try not to throw any hippies into "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows". I still like beatniks more and Willie Loomis mentioned beatniks to Mrs. Johnson in Dark Shadows already so there ya go. Should get a nice mention in my 11th Episode.

The usual eruption of passion is shared but furthering their bond as soul mates with being able to speak to each other with... erm... busy lips? Ah, what might some lovers enjoy with THAT ability? You could kiss, have oral sex, AND speak words of romance to your paramour. This could be the _only_ thing Gomez & Morticia might envy from this pair! Glad I finally found something... *wink*

Still, part of Barnabas is still in awe and terror. Does he really deserve all of this after becoming such a monster and having done her harm? Maggie hears these fears and cools them. Oh yes, the pain, the horror, the healing, to reach _this? _**So worth it!** :)


	26. Chapter 25: A Day In The 1960's

_This chapter shows Barnabas Collins and Margaret Josette Dupres discussing difficulties in remembering how much has happened since they've been married and reflecting on how their problems were solved._

_I did an extensive amount of research in re-carnation hypnosis and its startling results. Dr. Ian Stevenson was getting his start around the time Dark Shadows was already a staple of many homes so it culminated well in all of my stories._

_I also put this together months ago on the trouble with the lack of gaining commentary from my many readers. The mentality in this new age of device technology and obliviousness to the human needs of fan fiction writers struck a chord when my spouse read our usual Q and A columns one weekend._

_And I had also tested my audience here on Friday the 13th of December 2013 to see if they could understand the necessity for reviewing by posting episode 15 of "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" and expressing why positive feedback was so important. The large audience returned for this episode but..._

_This attempt to garner support failed, of course._

_However my being infuriated that an audience of readers could be so aloof and uncaring for two years was coupled with the fact that I'd gotten the harsh news about the death of a dear friend. And I was not in any way informed kindly of his death. It was done with a lot of hostility. So I dedicated this story to him considering the lack of human touch displayed in modern times and especially online._

* * *

Chapter 25 "A Day In The 1960's"

_Dedicated to the memory of my dear friend Rich, who passed away December 4th 2013_

_..._

My bride and I have been looking over our journals in hopes of finding one particular evening of rapturous pleasure.

I do see. There are a number of missing pages. Perhaps our archivist knows wherein they've gone? Haven't seen her much lately. She's been investigating other necessities with dear Victoria, who of course, always was a member of this family. The two do spend much time engrossed in the details of this estate. How it does give me peace of mind. Perhaps they're both looking over the finer points and seeing which are too explicit, possibly, for this release. Ah well.

"Darling," my Maggie returned, "they could be making prints of them."

"By hand? Or that other invention?"

"Yes," she answers, "isn't it peculiar that the man who invented xerography left so much in the way of funding to promote the work in the study of reincarnation?"

"Why is that?" I ask.

"One would think that a man with such an invention would have left money to… well… cloning or something of that nature."

Ah, now that I understand these things. I can see what she means. I've only _perused_ the essay of Dr. Ian Stevenson's "The Evidence for Survival from Claimed Memories of Former Incarnations". Apparently his work is something we too, must be grateful for.

"Of course," she continues, "I _must_ be grateful not to feel the need to hold anymore Tea Dances for the time being."

I need cast toward Her a deeply knowing tone, "Kitty…"

"Oui?" she answers, trying to confuse me. I have to laugh a little at this.

As our archivist has told us, in the time she comes from, many people have several different names. Any confusion to my dearest, whom I still voice as a bride, it's simply more romantic, is relegated to an ease of comfort when all comes to surface in the truth. It took a lot for us to reach this point of bliss. Three incarnations to reach me… wasn't it obvious to anyone what was to be? It was to me as I went through time and experienced it. But still, we do have certain parapsychologists to bless for all of this. This is why my father-in-law sent the proceeds I paid him of the painting he destroyed for me to such researchers.

And I'm glad to hear of this Dr. Stevenson and his work. It looks as if it will be a long series of investigations for him. And he never reveals his findings to be the proof, simply evidence. Of course, this is all well and in-order for me… as I… have _my_ proof. And our journals, which could be disclosed except that there are several pages missing right now… or it could be our archivist is keeping them to herself. And I wouldn't blame her. They are rather heavy going. And I must admit, difficult to pen. My hand shakes even now over the details.

"We can't remember how the bathing room was constructed," speaks my lady, "I want to say it was built into my room, but maybe that extension had been already been adjoined at the time. Can't you remember, Barnabas?"

"No, Josette, I cannot. I only remember…" I falter.

"Oh," she smiles, speaking lowly, "it _was_… rather… _wet_…"

"Yes… it was…"

"And…" she breathes, "those moments as we reached the floor… when I told you…"

"When I… explored you?" I whisper in her ear.

"Hmm," she begins to almost moan, "yes. Might… we?"

"Yes, my love," I tell her, "Let us… go… upstairs."

* * *

When Victoria and I arrived at The Old House, we called up the stairs, then noticed our couple were beyond busy… presumably, considering what we over heard. Ahem!

"Hmm," she said, "let's sit outside and read that newspaper you brought."

"Good idea," I agreed quickly, it'll likely be a _while_."

We found a decent spot on a bricked garden planter a fair distance away from any noise. Victoria rattled open the paper and sniffed, "Oh… my…"

"What is it?" I asked.

"This paper must be from the future! Ours wouldn't introduce topics like this! Hee, hee, hee... Looks like we just can't get away from the subject," she laughed, "This advice columnist got a letter… Seems a lady is extremely pushy to get her... _sex-toy_ business off the ground and a friend needs to know how to politely decline her gatherings."

I belted out, "Tell her to take her butt-plugs and SHOVE IT!" Then I proceeded to roll off my seat onto the ground and lost myself in riotous laughter. I noticed some time later that Victoria was _not_ lightly tittering as I expected, but rather shaking so hard with mirth as to nearly weep on the paper.

"You don't understand," she told me, seeing my surprise.

_*I* don't understand?_ I thought. _Wasn't that usually her line? But anyway…_

"Peter & I were looking over that catalogue you leant us," she went on between chuckles, "He suggested trying those out and…"

"You told _him_ to take his butt-plugs and shove it?" I grinned.

"Practically!" she almost shouted.

"Well, I'm with you there, Vicky. Still whatever floats ones boat, I suppose."

After calming down more we looked over the etiquette columnist. Perhaps that would bring more sobriety out from our shared hilarity. She read the query:

_"Dear Agony Aunt: Let me begin with the worst of it (You would well be advised to brace yourself). I am 19 and have not written thank-you notes for holidays and birthdays for about two years now._

_I'd like to make amends with my family members who sent me nice gifts that I didn't thank them properly for, but I'm not exactly sure what the right course of action is at this point. Do I just send out thank-yous for the gifts I received this year and try not to draw explicit attention to how remiss I have been in my correspondence? Can I apologize for not sending thank-you notes in the past?_

_I'd like to acknowledge what they sent me before, but I'm sure I've forgotten some of the things I've received (which is horrible), and I don't want to make it sound like I'm ungrateful by omitting them. I also don't want to make it sound like I'm asking for gifts in the future or try to furnish excuses (I don't have any)._

_I really just want to apologize, express my gratitude and move on, but I'm struggling to figure out how to do that."_

Victoria stopped to reflect and then looked at me, "You know, this is all sounding a little familiar."

I sighed, "Victoria, what _doesn't_ seem familiar around this estate?"

"True," she said, "but what I mean is, you and I have been doing a lot of work trying to get these memoirs accurate. On my end people are pretty grateful and help a lot, but it sounds like in the future you come from they don't know how to tell you."

"Okay," I said, "that's correct. Maybe the columnist has some good advice. What's the response?"

Victoria cleared her throat and began, _"Dear 19: You are not the worst. The worst are ingrates who, far from being repentant, try to cast blame on their benefactors for being so selfish as to expect any response to their generosity. In fact, your relatives have been especially generous in continuing to send you presents in the absence of responses."_

"Ah," I said, "that's a good point. I've definitely had people angry at me, mostly when I've shown alarm at their ruining my belongings."

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, a little desk, a pair of headphones… Long stories," I sighed, "Keep reading."

She continued:

_"Still, your record is pretty bad, and I am gratified that you are ready to make amends. You are, I presume, prepared to grovel."_

"Goodness!" I marvelled, then reflected, "well, that's likely a facetious statement."

Victoria winked and read on:

_"Your letters should begin with enthusiastic thanks for the latest presents, then go into high praise for their past kindness. For the past presents that you can recall, write specifically about how you have been enjoying them all this time._

_Then comes the self-flagellation. The important part is to refrain from offering any excuses. Claiming to have been busy, even with examples of the demands upon you, only annoys people. It prompts them to reflect that they, too, were busy, but made time to send you presents._

_Rather, it should be about how ashamed you are not to have acknowledged their warmth and consideration, which means so much to you. I understand that this seems a grim task. But I promise that you will feel better afterward."_

Victoria folded the newspaper and rested it between us on the planter. We stared into the woods, and listened to the waves nearby for a minute.

"Why is it so hard for your people to talk to each other?" she asked me, "I mean, you said there are all these wonders in the future that make it so simple to communicate, once you have the knack of using the tools."

"Well," I replied, "we don't all want to bother with learning how to use the tools for one thing."

She was stunned, "But why not? They can do so much good!"

"It's often been a puzzle to me, Victoria. I took the time to finally learn how to communicate with people better, but by that time no one seemed to want to talk to each other anymore."

"I can't imagine a world like that. With everything going on in this day and age, it sounds like it's just going to get worse."

"No, Vicky," I explained, "it _does_ get better in many ways. But it is very lonely and aloof much of the time. Everything people are doing in your time period to make the world better gets rather taken for granted in my generation. The nice thing is less people are apt to be outright rude _and_ in detail, but we haven't yet found the way to tell each other what's good about one another specifically. Especially," I had to heave a sigh here, "my own spouse. He reads books like he drinks water, but even he has a hard time really explaining what he enjoys exactly. I have to catch him laughing and then be sure to ask him before he forgets."

"Yes," she smiled, "I suppose it's much easier to hear it from someone in person. But from what you've told me, everyone is mostly using machines to connect and… in all of that time… well, they're not really connected at all. Those telephones you talk about sound awful, all static and no warmth?"

"Ah," I answered, "it's not just static, a lot of the words and sounds cut out. It's really muffled. I get the impression the people using them just pretend they can hear what each other are saying."

Victoria gave a laugh through her nose, "Sounds like how this place used to be."

"I know," I told her, "Still… I have hope. There is an intense amount of brevity, but perhaps I haven't found the right people yet to really tell our story to. It takes all kinds to make a world. Someone, quite a few people, I believe, are out there who want it and who want to discuss it and share what they enjoy about it."

"But," she asked, confused, "why do you want to stay here with us?"

"I want to see it through," I told her, "everything needs to be patched up and I need to find the way to describe it clearly."

"That's very sweet. Although… aren't there people in that future, in 2014, that you miss and that you love?"

"Quite a few," I confessed, "but they're scattered all over the country and some even across the pond, as they say. And they rarely make much of an effort to spend time using all those new inventions to let me know in return. So now, it's you and me, and these archives."

She took a breath, "All right. I understand. But… why here? Why us?"

"Well," I told her, "if I may paraphrase something that, in a strange way, you, Maggie and Josette told me almost two years ago…"

"What? How could all three of us say the same thing?"

"I think you'll get the gist of it, Victoria."

"All right," she said, "what did we tell you?"

"Like I say, I am paraphrasing and maybe adding something to it, but it's why I keep on here in this town. You see, for most of my life I've wanted a place where I belonged. A place where I could feel at home again… Feel loved again. And I found that place here at Collinwood… and with… you all."

* * *

_Now I understand I had to track down my true audience because they likely did what I'd done; hunted out what they wanted from 2007-2011 finding Anything-Goes, Alternate Universe and bits of good but mostly mediocre material that they neither enjoyed much nor gave them any relief. Having given up they had no idea I was here after that._

_Of course, in Alternate Universe there is always one thing that can happen; as a reviewer pointed out on a story I read: "I never can see how Barnabas, in canon, ever loving Julia, tho... I don't see it as in character for him." In AU? Sure. In canon? Nope._

_Yes, a rare time I did not review a story I read. She pretty much expressed it for me. Why bum out the person who wrote it even more?_

_I likely had a large audience of Anything DS readers who got lazy from the "lovely" new device technology with crappy keyboards and no real love of Barnabas' strong devotion to Josette Dupres, nor the need for Maggie to find herself and be paired with the most loving gentleman in Dark Shadows if given a teaspoon of a chance to find happiness. (Joe Haskell? Seriously? P'ff!)_

_But the beautifully devoted Helena wins all of our hearts for her appreciation of so many creators, her true adoration of Barnabas Collins regardless of most dames picked out for him and her ability to give selflessly in friendship and constructive-praise. _

_As for any old readers returning to my work who might claim no commentary came due to my spiraling into drunken ravings of angst after discovering how large the readership was for "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows". I did ask very nicely for quite a while and ya just kept taking. After working my bum off since 2011, though having posted it 14 February 2012, well, what did you expect? _

_But the usual writers will often tell me, that's just the way fanfiction works. Nah, it's a DS problem. Even with much lower stat numbers in the other fandoms, The Ghost & Mrs. Muir fans reviewed in a week and a half after I got "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" to them. The Addams Family fans? 24 hours. That was all it took. :)_

_As Julia Hoffman might, I'd get fed up with Barnabas Collins not showing me affection and go in search of people who did. _

_So with warm gratitude to my new readers and listeners, Pollyanna Whittier might tell me, "You looked for the good in Dark Shadows fans, and you found it, didn't you?" ;)_

* * *

_Rest In Peace, Rich. Thanks for introducing me to a percolator. And thanks for being a Dad when all I had was far too close to Jason McGuire._


	27. Chapter 26: Why Wadsworth Understands

_An evening in which Wadsworth confesses to certain dark troubles he encountered before coming to work for Barnabas Collins, explaining why he understands his relationships with both Angelique Bouchard and Josette Dupres. Also delving into how he recognizes the difficulties of Collinwood in general._

* * *

Chapter 26: Why Wadsworth Understands

One evening as my lovely bride was ascending the stairs, having kissed me goodnight, I was about to rest into my usual armchair before the fire and take a look into one of the many books I'd been aggrieved to miss over the centuries. I picked it up then put it down again as my ever faithful butler stepped into the room.

"Sir," he began, "I'm afraid the blood-pie experiment did not turn out so well."

I had to grin with some relief, "Ah, well. It was only a curiousity. Hardly my favourite dish in a bygone youth, my good man. What happened?"

"Mr. Loomis and I were reflecting on things and... well... got a little distracted. It is... rather _burnt_."

I tried to give a look toward him of his having been rather naughty, but he could see right through me, as he always does. He smiled back.

"It's good to know you and Willie get along so well."

"We've had a rather interesting acquaintance previously."

"I know," I told him, "and I was wondering a great deal about you as of late. If it wasn't for you, along with all of these strange events, I may never know the happiness I've so longed for. How is that you've come to understand us all so very well?"

His attentive stance relaxed and he placed his hands in his pockets , "The family history isn't as privatized as you all may like to speculate, Sir. I could read between the lines, and the gossip does flow rather easily here. It seemed to me you'd all been overwhelming yourselves with internal struggles. These would produce foul actions and more nightmarish displays of both vanity and revenge."

The silence at this point was so deafening that I almost didn't hear the crackling flames inside the hearth. Wadsworth had hit the nail on the head _again._

"Agreed," I finally said to him, "and how did you know how to accomplish what you've done?"

"I hardly did it alone, Sir. As I've explained to Mr. Loomis, can anything be accomplished by a single individual all alone?"

"No," I answered, "though there are many who have expected me to do such grand tasks."

"As our archivists know, Sir. Was that all?"

"No, Wadsworth," I answered, "I remember you mentioning an incident that happened to you many years before you came here. You'd fallen into some trouble of your own."

"Yes," he said, "I think you mean the incident in which I was blackmailed even earlier than before my... employment... at Hill House, so to speak."

"Yes. Did it not involve a previous lover?"

"No, Sir," he began carefully, "it involved a liaison I had in which I'd woken up from a heavy night of drink. Not usually my forte, but there was a rather great deal of social pressure to do so and a large number of people I was associating with at the time. I was given the impression that nothing untoward had occurred when I came-to in another lady's bedroom the following morning. It was a large house and a large party. Anything may have happened that I wouldn't have been totally aware of the next day."

"And then you went home?" I asked.

"Yes. My wife had been away on a visit and we shared our stories upon her return home. Quite a lovely time we had, she and I... As it happened, about ten months later I received an unfortunate letter. It was from the woman whose bed I'd lain in and had given me the impression I'd slept there alone."

"You hadn't, I gather."

"Not that she was telling me in this letter, Sir. No," he explained. "I began going into quite a lot of debt when I was sent the paperwork of my supposed son's birth. I wanted to do the honourable thing but..." he sighed, "I was against telling my wife until I could find some way to support my own dastardly behaviour, of which, try as I might, I had no memory of."

"That is excessively troubling," I sympathized, "and divorce being such a new concept to me I have a hard time imagining it. I would gather that you felt you ought to divorce your wife and marry this woman whose child you'd fathered."

Wadsworth took a deep breath and leaned against the doorframe, staring up, "As you remember the tale, I did make that attempt to offer such allegiance. Is it any wonder she wouldn't have me considering what happened?"

"I can't imagine. I confess to know little of these times I have missed sleeping so long in my ...en_chained_... state of existence."

"Of course, Sir," he reflected, rolling his head from the frame of the entryway and looking in my direction, "It all rather changed quicker and quicker as time went on and still does. As you know, I wasn't going to wonder who this wee lad was and she refused to accept me for a visit. So I took the paper work and went to the hospital to perhaps find more details of my son's whereabouts. I arrived and was seen to fairly quickly considering how busy a hospital can get."

He looked down to the floor, and taking his hands out of his pockets folded his arms before carrying forward, his eyes becoming slightly glassy as though a mist was about to cloud.

"What did they tell you?" I inquired gently.

He looked up with a sad resolution, "The paperwork had been forged. They had no record of such a birth and there were signatures on the document of his birth that were unknown names to them, as well as one that was familiar but obviously was not the doctor's handwriting," with this he paused to give a slight laugh, "it was too legible."

I hummed in commiseration over this sad joke in light of sour circumstances, "Did you ever discover why she had wanted the money from you?"

He did laugh a bit at this, "Oh, ha, the usual women's vanity. Clothing, furs, expensive jewellery. Material possessions that seem to give people the kind of comfort they can't take for granted when there are higher sources of joy in life, of course."

"I doubt I need to be told what those are," I expressed to my steadfast butler. Friendship, connection, the beauty of structure in both nature and by human design was what he meant. **Those things many take for granted, while others do not have them.**

"And so," he said, "when it comes to the incident with the young mistress Bouchard, I knew where you were coming from in some small regard. I was very grateful I could finally unburden myself to my wife about what had been happening. She knew me too well not to suspect something was bothering me, but I told her it was only a bad memory. When she heard the news she was very grateful that it had all been a petulant lie. And so was I."

"Still," I told him, "in comparison you hadn't been in that affair. Your conscience is much clearer than mine. I was guilty of my own passion as concerns Angelique Bouchard."

"Yes," said my good servant, "but for months... I believed I _had_ been as guilty and dishonourable. For months... to me... it was true."

I nodded in this commiseration we were now sharing, "I see. I suppose this sorry woman didn't return in any way what she'd taken from you?"

Wadsworth scoffed, "Ah! I didn't care at that point. I was happy to be rid of the whole problem and never hear from her again, nor meet her in polite society. Although we can all wonder how polite that society truly is."

"So you knew of how I felt," I said, stepping closer to him, "but of Josette? How did you know how I felt about her?"

He finally smiled, "Ah, Sir... Hadn't I told you? Mr. Loomis knows the answer to this one. When we were being blackmailed into working for our employer for free? She ended her life. She was put into a position she couldn't handle anymore. Like many of your family, and like the bride you hold so dear. I understand loss, Sir. And I understand loneliness. And many of the ones around you, who adore you while also tormenting you into dire situations, do **not** understand these things."

"Well," I said, "perhaps in their own way they do understand. I have so much of what I was so desperate for. If I didn't have my family or friends such as yourself and Mr. Loomis, along with the woman I love and adore above all others; I think it would have been best if _I had_ jumped off of the cliff. Suicide is not a rare thought to some of us."

"No, Sir. It is not."

I heaved a sigh, "Still, it is nice to see such wonders I was beginning to lose hope for. Especially with Carolyn's new business, along with that of her friend. I know writing and description can be a very difficult endeavour."

Wadsworth straitened himself and stepped back toward the door he'd come out of, "Well that is the nice thing about the madam from Schooner Bay. She has her sales to keep her going and she also has words of comfort from her readers, which I think helps her more."

"Yes," I said, "I believe when it comes to storytelling, knowing the approval of your audience and how they enjoy one's work is perhaps the largest reason to the creator of it. Without that, why go on?"

A knowing smile came to his face.

"Very good, Sir," said Wadsworth. Then he bowed and stepped out.

* * *

_I was touched when Wadsworth & Barnabas shared this discussion with me. It's likely the most masculine piece I've ever put together. Still, what they discuss about Mrs. Muir relationship to her writing, taking luxuries for granted, and the suicidal contemplation should have easily explained to my readers what I'd been going through when I originally posted it months ago. I doubt that it did._

_Remember, in the theatrical release of "Clue" the different endings were spliced onto the main story depending which theater a person went to. Only in the video release did they claim Wadsworth really was Mr. Boddy. I have never believed it but it made a clever wrap-up. If that was the real story Wadsworth couldn't come to Collinwood and be so much help to us. Barnabas Collins and Willie Loomis especially._

_I adore Wadsworth's role in all of this. He is a man of service as Willie becomes in Dark Shadows, but is aristocratic as Barnabas always has been. Wadsworth is the perfect go between. I look forward to these three men spending more time together in "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows". _

_However, Barnabas Collins will make peace towards Willie Loomis and their friendship on his own. :)_


	28. Chapter 27 Summary

Summary For Chapter 27: A Cleansing

_Yes... the excessively difficult bathtub chapter... of which I'm STILL not done... *sigh*_

_Why they wanted this is beyond my belief. It isn't the safest of things to do in the world and I would not suggest anyone try it unless you use extreme caution and amazing dexterity. It is interesting! I realized I could only get so far before I had to give it a try. I have a feeling I won't have this chapter done until I'm about to see the galley proofs for this novel. There are many times I see this in print in my mind and given to lovers on their wedding day as a gift. I think it would bless a lot of marriages as it's blessed mine._

_Remember, this is not our story, it's theirs. My husband and I have been inspired and our love has grown from what Barnabas and Margarette have shown us. I'd love to know if it's helped anyone else. (But you know us online writers, we can't read minds. *wink*)_

_In this chapter Maggie prepares a bath as her bathing quarters have been fixed and running water installed in the house. Even in some of the dangers of candles I felt it was more romantic to leave The Old House more or less as it was, but if people can't BATHE that's just atrocious.__ So running hot and cold water have been added. I presume it wasn't there before, unless you count LOOMIS HOUSE, which I don't. LOL!_

_Oh, if anyone remembers in "The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows" Sophia Petrillo took Adam home to Brooklyn for a job in manufacturing soap. I just love that he remembers his benefactors with these little gifts. They don't know exactly where Adamo Grisanti Terrenzio is but Maggie does appreciate these gifts from him. :)_

_And yes, this gives away a bit of what Mr. Loomis is going to be doing. But... Come on... it's a lovely place now, and yet... still spooky. I just *love* that Willie has changed so much to become what he is here and both designed and created Josette's engagement ring and their wedding rings._

_As I've got in my rough sketch notes:_

* * *

BARNABAS: From what I've seen, I believe you're competent enough to do this design work. Would you like to?

WILLIE: Yes, yeh... I think I'd like that a lot.

BARNABAS: Very good. I've given you the specifications and I trust you'll do them justice.

WILLIE: Thank you. I'll do my best, Barnabas.

BARNABAS: I know.

[steps]

WILLIE: You know... I never thought opening that coffin would lead to all of this.

BARNABAS: Who could?

WILLIE: Yeh... after it all.. I'm surprised knowing you would change me so much.

BARNABAS: Well, I suppose some bad things occur in order to give us better results, Willie.

WILLIE: Yeh... I guess so... I used to be so worried about what you did to Jason... but now... I'm almost grateful...

BARNABAS: Oh?

WILLIE: Yes... I understand now. He wasn't really my friend. And in all of our squabbles... somehow... you... turned out to be.

* * *

_And as my pen pal who's helped me so much with all of this work and the encouragement for it… she told me, of all the hurts that I'd healed and the friendships that I'd helped to grow from it… this one is her favourite._

_The other chapter I'm skipping is a slow moving one of romance and sensuality in which the two are enjoying gazing and wondering and growing and in their vampirism, discovering that they are beginning to speak telepathically to each other in this way. She can read His thoughts better than He can read Hers._

_I'd originally chosen them to be vampires in my other version of the story due to its sexy appeal… but now that I have thought it over, it makes even more sense. As Barnabas knows his Josette through both Kitty Soames and Maggie, there is a requirement that they desire at least three generations to make up for all the time they've lost. Maggie, as Josette, has the upper need in this as she had lived all those periods rather than gestating in a wooden box ad nauseum._

_And so in that chapter I'm skipping, she finds her telepathy skill as a vampire, and his bride, surfacing much quicker. As in my other version of this story she has the dominance, which is just as well. It's not like Barnabas would mind, would he? Coming from her? Nah. And since this novel gives much away as to what turns out in "The Pit of The Ultimate Dark Shadows"… who finally gives them this gift of sweet, not-so-cursed, un-blemishing vampirism?_

_Obviously: Cousin Lily! ;) And of course! I know it's a bit cheesy but from what I've seen online Lily Dracula Munster does entice sex-appeal from a great many fans. Lily doesn't bite Barnabas, though. Nope! She bites Josette. That way Josette can bite Barnabas, and so… he will always be under her power._

_But I *AM* open to more DS styles of suggestion to reach the same effect! It seems fitting enough for right now. That's the theory. A nice gift for their engagement. (If you've seen my photos of the trip to the seaside to pass around The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows postcards, you likely know where he'll propose.)_

_One bit I do love about this chapter is that Maggie can hear his heart beating all the way down the stairs. She knows he's entered the house. This is after she teases Wadsworth that he can't say Willie's first name and always addresses him as Mr. Loomis. That affords Willie a kind of respect no one ever gave him before. _

_After Barnabas reaches the room she tells him she didn't lock the door. Barnabas' quotes his line at The Coffee Shop in The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows, "Oh, don't worry. I just locked it myself." _

_*wicked grin*_


	29. Chapter 28: Forgiveness

Chapter 28: Forgiveness

_Pop? Do you remember something you once told me? I never forgot it. It was right after Mom died. The world is full of pain and unhappiness. But you and I can hold off as long as we stand together. –Maggie Evans_

_Dark Shadows, Episode 12 Written by Art Wallace_

* * *

It had not been quite so intense a night between Barnabas and I. We hadn't been looking through our journals of these days and nights together so recently, but of older things and what needed touching up in the family history. There was very little of my mother, Marie la Freniére and this is no surprise as I had no memory of her, at least in this life. Considering Pappa came back as well, I suspected the mother I knew in my current childhood as Maggie Evans was also the same. Then when I noticed she was still around and doing favours for us I was sure. It was she who had seen all of this and helped it to happen.

We found a few paintings with both of her incarnations, Pop and I jotting down details, thinking of her in either part of the whole equation. She must know what I had gone through, and likely was trying to help me see that again almost a century before as well as Nephew Caleb.

These thoughts left us as my husband and I lay in bed, simply drifting, to enjoy lying together. He held me and stroked my skin, moving our limbs to pursue a comfortable state of togetherness. Sleep came back and forth from this relaxation: Our serenity.

I remembered shifting about and I saw Willie leaning over the fire, placing two more logs inside the hearth for us. The dear, sweet soul. He was becoming more and more how Benjamin Stokes had been and likely became when his life improved as we all missed viewing it. A pale face beckoned Willie in the half opening of my door, waiting and stretching out her hand to bring him back to their quarters with her. He took it in kind. What a sweet-one she'd been. They shut the door behind them.

An hour or so after this I woke up in my night dress, put on my robe and noticed those newer logs on the fire. I drew myself down on the floor before them, folding my arms about my upturned knees, I stared into the flames. No phoenixes, no ghosts, just firelight.

"Margaret?" I heard Barnabas murmur from the bed.

"I'm here, my love. I'm here."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing. Bits of the past, as usual. The peace of the evening tonight. Ourselves."

"Hardly nothing, Josette."

I smiled softly, turning to look at him. He was resting on his side, his head on the pillow surveying me in that admiration I so often saw on his face. No other man in the world was for me. I wouldn't tell him to forget me. If he had truly loved another and not me I would have to let him go. That was in my nature. I could never be pleased or feel easy about it if it had been so, which managed to wreck me the first time around. I knew he was never in love with Angelique. Barnabas Collins had been terrified and deeply disturbed in his feelings of lust and being dishonourable to whom he believed himself to be. And, of course, it's made me love him all the more.

We also dealt with vanity. He wouldn't have me as a grotesque re-animation of my disfigured corpse. He wanted physical beauty and that is an understandable human quality. I'm not sure how I would feel if we weren't so preserved in this way by the blood. Thank heavens we don't require so much to survive. He's kept as pristine as he was before; a more youthful glow took hold of us both in this way. We appreciated it. After all we'd been through I can't imagine we don't deserve that added treat in our lives.

I looked into the fire... then I bolted! The sensation of fingers going up the right side of my back shocked me. There he was, my beloved, sitting beside me so suddenly. I had to let free a small laugh after almost screaming prior to it. "You still have that ability to scare me, Barnabas; Even with what we send within our minds."

"I meant to catch you off guard," he smiled in return, almost wickedly but happily, tilting his head to graze my lips. I returned his kiss, always so heartfelt and filled with such passion, mild at times and strong at others. So soft, so gentle, so many things I knew that he could be. So near as I had always wanted. To be Josette Dupres again, to awaken to myself as a whole, and to understand within myself all of who I was. Maggie Evans doesn't drop away in all of this. I fought so hard against my identity of Josette because it was so much a facade to him then. Neither of us recalled who I was. I could never be the fragments of china doll, the tiny fragments he could remember.

Josette Marie Dupres, that was who I was and who I am still. And I as Maggie Evans proved that to me as well. The interval as Kitty Soames was the sadness of our hearts. But toward myself I grinned. She lived within me and we would never let that go. "I must live my life as myself," I had shouted in the turbulence. And so I do. What I loved then lived again. Of course I would say yes to him, as I had always said yes, and happiness was a far greater luxury than all the jewels I left behind.

I felt his thumb beneath my ear... fingers wrapping around the back of my head, reaching under my hair. He had what he always wanted and it made him so virile and loving, and it was because of me. I kissed him, opening my lips to offer him what was within. A dab of tongue collected at mine. I thought of how this adoration in each other served to increase our desire, knowing the other was so rich in pleasure, and being so pleased because of oneself. It enhanced our feelings for each other in ways I could hardly imagine, not that I had to.

I'd hugged myself close but now unfolded and we stood up on our knees, some awkward, reaching, involved; the flickering of the flame's dancing light along his cheek, creating the darkened glow from his brows, the intensity in his hazel eyes. He loved me and I had no doubts. Facing this way, smoothly coursing our hands along and around each other, I burned with desire, feeling that grip of his fingers along my waist and hip, a slight dig with his thumbs into my pelvis which sparked even more longing. The muscles on his torso tensing as I fanned out my fingers along them, pressing and making his breath sharper as we remained locked together.

Our embrace tightened as we held each other in this upright kneeling position. Our lips released and I heard him exhale, "No more pain, no more torture. You are my wondrous beauty, all that I've sacrificed myself in my foul actions for, all that I've hated myself not to deserve. Just to be safe and with you."

"And I you," I told him quietly, "I've forgiven you, my dearest. And I must ask you..."

"Oh," he almost whined, "what can it be now in this beautiful moment?" He turned his head hoping to press his lips upon mine once more and I pulled my head back a little to stop him.

"Barnabas Collins? Have you forgiven... _yourself?"_

Our breathing halted and the fire crackled softly, our faces lit by it, his in a stunned look, not quite at me anymore but through me.

"I hadn't considered it... at all" he uttered, tilting his face again in that peculiar way of his, "and why should I?"

That's when I took his face in my hands, "Because I want these burdens lifted from you, _mon demón_. We've all come this far. Why not you?"

He stroked my hair, letting his fingers slide down my neck and around my collar, "I hadn't thought of my own forgiveness from anyone other than you. I have had my bliss and go on having it in your arms while you are in mine. This was what mattered and the realization that I could bring happiness to my Josette... after all of this madness toward _you_... Maggie."

"Your love was misguided, dearest Barnabas and when we are misguided we do wretched things we never believe and rarely understand. Even empty attentions. Silent omissions."

He released me from his hold and stood up, then took my hand and arms, helping me to my feet. "I've been in too much disbelief to want more than what I have now. But if you want me to take on this stronger task, I must ask you to lead me toward it, Maggie. My bride."

From along his neck, I let my hand drift down his bare chest, smooth, handsome, and treasure that he was to me and always must be. I knew.

Taking his hand I led him away from the fire. I began removing my robe then he helped to slip it off from my arms as we let it fall to the floor. What was left of his sleeping attire I removed, then kissed his legs, his hips and his torso as I worked my way back up to reach his mouth. As I did he pulled my nightdress up over my head and I raised my arms. As all was undone we embraced once more, his skin along so much of mine.

His arms came forward and my elbow bent and tucked between us, he took my hand and kissed it tenderly, then looked up into my eyes. "What do you want me to do?"

Stepping backward, I pulled him toward the bed. We crept beneath the sheets and it gave me a small amusement that I was taking his usual side of the mattress. He leaned himself higher on his elbow, stroking my face, my side, arm, bosom, and back to the neck again. He asked again, shooting a look of longing, "Josette? What do you want me to do?"

"Come back to me, my darling. Accept yourself as the gentleman you've become again. We all have The Beast in us. We all wrestle with similar struggles. Perhaps if you feel me in my forgiveness, you'll learn to grace yourself with it."

I felt down below. He needed a little encouragement but not that much and I caressed him to gain this, not only that one part of him, but all around it.

A dark, nervous utterance from this as his half-closed eyes beckoned into mine, "What do you wish me to think of? Or dare I ask, to believe?"

"Lie still a moment, my love," I told him and then gestured for him to turn so that his back was pressed against this little nest of ours. I went astride him and slowly came down as we shuddered with the change and the unity. I centered myself toward this hard swelling of my insides: One focal point, but not the only condition of us. As our bond grew in its impact, I slid down further and remembered his proposal, how he'd returned from the past again, how I saw his face and what he'd been through and the love I had... knowing he'd finally suffered it all and come back to me, whole, complete.

His hands slid down my shoulders, massaging my arms, sliding down further... withholding a moment to grasp at my breasts, but gently and then continued, stroking my stomach, my sides and back up, reaching me down to blend my lips with his again. Gliding our arms above as I leaned down, our hands coiled together on the pillows over his head. We clasped there, our fingers entwined, and our union became fulfilled. The momentum inside me was without comparison. An honour from him to me, as it always was.

How he loved me and how I understood that he did. The messages needed to come out now, I knew. As this happened I took what I knew and sent it to him, my thoughts, my feelings, and all I could of my forgiveness, urging him to hear it, see it, listen to it, let it become a part of him.

His kiss turned somewhat dormant and I knew it had reached his mind... but would it reach his heart? We became still, but breathing. It took some moments and I understood it was flooding into him. Then his kiss became more fervent and I thrust Barnabas further inside me with my movements, pulling and pushing, grappling his shoulders, or even the bedclothes, trying to break him free.

His answer? Almost a weep... almost for he is not prone to it, far too melancholy, as we all know Him to be. But now? I could hear his heart ache in the blessing. Sharing this experience with him, doing more than speaking but showing him how I felt with these new powers we held: Relieving something more than having the physical proof that we were together here. And his passion grew, the beat of his heart increased, his arms fastened around me, clenching mouths, the air from our lungs moving swiftly back and forth as we did... Turning so suddenly I wasn't sure myself how it happened. I was on my back now and he was above me.

Barnabas came upon me, urgently kissing me, holding me so tightly and bringing himself into me stronger than I could remember him doing before. He reached down to my knees, even in this request I knew he was getting used to some of my techniques and _wanted them_. I raised my legs and rested them gently along his backside. The motions continued and the kissing, the subtle breaths and moans between us. His lips were upon me, pursing along the midsection of my sternum, then suckling at my breasts again, one and then the other, driving himself further below as he nourished himself above and I enjoyed it with him. I ran my nails down the flesh of his shoulder blades as he and I inhaled so deeply and so quickly.

In all of the excitement I did my best to move my hips in a giving way, feeling his love for me all over and within me so deep, as if trying to reach himself all the way up into my heart. He pulled his face away from my chest and brought his lips to mine, our rhythm slowing, our breaths becoming calmer and I finally realized why this was happening. He's released himself inside of me... _and with that he had unburdened his soul._

I looked into his eyes and our cognizant images flooded me. The door opening, I standing there in my old costumes of bygone days, some recent. The waitress outfit he first saw me in, the purple dress in 1897 I so often wore, the masses of waves and curls that I had from even farther back. In my striped gown and I, opening the box with a "gift" that had terrified me so. _Ha!_ Such silly trifles of horror would never trouble me now. "A globe of the world," my Barnabas had said, "Someone has given us the world." _Oh, yes,_ I thought_,Now... we have that world._

His memories of seeing me when we'd stepped into each other's lives again and again, even a thought of another girl who resembled me and how he felt about her. The remembrances fled over and between our hearts and minds as he held himself aloft, even the thrush of air as we breathed exciting the skin along our cheeks. I could tell there was a small amount of perspiration on us, but in the low lighting it didn't show so well.

"Ah, Barnabas," I confirmed, as he looked down on me, "that wider smile I remember. That glad generosity. That's the man I know. A little surprise, the bare hint of glee, just the bare hint."

A curious wonder marked his expression as well as he remained above me, holding himself up to allow us space and air, but still within me, I could feel his pulse there begin to slow down. "Should I pull away?" he asked, letting a small seriousness creep back in.

"Not if you don't want to," I answered, "we're in this to share, if you recall. And I saw it all, Barnabas and how you feel about me. Neither of us need have doubts about it, anymore."

He fell to one side of me, slipping out and drifting his touch up and down my body in so many places.

"How did we accomplish all of this, my darling? Merely the two of us?"

I scooped him in my embrace, "Oh, Barnabas," I chortled, as Maggie Evans as I could say it, "you and I have lived a long, long time."

And then I held him in my arms so we could bless each other in this kiss.

My husband delivered one thought as we enfolded our lips, "Merci, Josette... Merci."

* * *

_A share of your thoughts makes all the difference. Peace._


	30. Chapter 29: An Unknown Conception

Chapter 29: An Unknown Conception

I leaf again through these splendorous memories I became so close to never expecting. What did **I** understand of joy after so much pain? My Josette had been torn away from me. Twice, although I did not know it until I ventured into a past world I had no knowledge of, but that I had skipped. Again, I was the anachronistic man, coming into the turmoil of my family through the centuries. How could it be we survived at all?

And I would think in each flash of finding my Josette, not for the first time, of course, but for the latter times I came in contact with her. In order to understand that this child becoming woman would have to venture through so much life and struggle to reach me over and over again. Her beauty never wavered and neither did my loyalty to her. I always recognized who she was or who she might be to me. But in these lives she would flitter and not know me, until it was too late... at least... those two times. But this last one, the third and the one that ultimately made the difference, knew. Let us not be lost again. We shall not be. I quote my darling, _"Our destinies are one."_

Knowing nothing of the rush in modern times, my matrimony was of all enjoyment. I hear of shuffling uncertainties and anxiety to weddings. For ours I knew none. I delighted in each detail. I adored them like a ripened berry on the vine, as the sight and touch of her always would be to my senses.

I tasted her at the altar of our sacred union. I stood in the clothing of our time, she stood in the recreation. Did this modern woman see my attire and wonder at it? No. She remembered. She knew. And all the horror our beloved people had gone through, there they stood at this divine ritual. They recognized, in the now of my family's own happiness, that to witness the two of us standing together in a sepulchral hold was the symbol of unity for all of us in our entirety. As we exited the chapel door my bride spoke into my ear, "They don't know, Barnabas, do they?"

Her white apricot cheek along mine, I whispered back in my smiling, coy address, "What don't they know, Miss Evans?"

"This isn't a town, my dearest, this is the threshold of our universe."

I stepped her closer to me beyond the frame of this doorway, "Oh, how I knew it was you, Josette. How I knew you had always been the pinnacle of change for us."

And, truthfully, I had.

Her hand rised and I clasped it in mine as she whispered to me, "Do you know what I'm looking forward to?"

"Tonight?" I uttered, hopefully.

"No," she laughed, "well, that, too. But our being friends, as we've begun to be."

I grinned at her gratefully, "I'll give you everything, my sweetness... all the games of cards, or reading together, of delightful dishes, songs, fabrics sewn to any lovely dress you desire... I promise I'll adore it all as much as I adore you."

With her lips she showed me what this meant to her, and she knew how honest I was; every single word.

Josette had once kissed me and pulled back in reprimand of my being too modern. Too modern for that time? What they now called Regency or Colonial? Why wouldn't I be? That was the whole purpose. I didn't want my bride for my own lustful circumstances. I loved her for more than that, to change this place and to change me. To change all of us. Even her own dear friend, Angelique Bouchard. She would do it in ways I never could. Josette _loved_ Angelique in ways I never would. In that sense I look forward to a future in which we could all be whole again, to be one. And **that** is why I love Josette Dupres... **and **why I adore Maggie Evans, the reborn continuance of her.

* * *

One night I knelt before our hearth with an unscrupulous novel. I couldn't read as I tried to in front of the fireside. Josette had leant me a book in certain wonderings if I would be pleased with it. I was not. I was worried to tell her. But she approached me and I confessed my worries while she giggled them away.

"I hadn't meant for you to read it if you didn't enjoy it." She confessed.

"I don't," I told her, "I only enjoy _you_, my dear."

"Hmmm," she laughed, "I believe you," she took the volume by Cleland from my withering grasp and set it on the mantel. Who would find it there after that... please let them be old enough to decide for themselves, I prayed. This Fanny Hill is not something I would want David to see.

She took my hands and I lifted myself from the kneeling position in front of our hearth. Fingers clasped, our lips met and she questioned me, "Do you want more from me tonight?"

Maggie was able to consent herself to me in this question and I had to answer, "I always want you, and if you want me I will prepare myself as quickly as I can."

A throaty exhale often greeted me in response as it did now, "Don't be so hard on yourself, dearest," here she stroked my cheek with the back of her fingers, "I doubt you sense what these wee hours could mean..."

Here I had to clutch her ribs and bring her further to me before letting go, "Tell me what you want and I'll pursue it with you, only tell me."

Her dancing brown eyes leapt between looking at mine, "You remember the candle I created, Barnabas."

"From the one Sarah made for you? Why did you re-make it?"

"The wick was troubled and the wax needed more work, so I re-created it and it's in my window, but I haven't lit it yet. I want us to go upstairs and light the rest. And _then_... that one her and I made together, of course."

"You smile, Maggie," I breathed into the chestnut tresses I adored, "but I don't understand why."

She wove her fingers from my shoulder to my neck and up into my hair, grasping my head in her palms and pulling mine towards hers, "I've had you for years now... but I think we're ready for more."

My lips found her forehead first in this desire as I continued along either side of her nose and to her lips, apprehending what she meant.

A child. Our child. Our love and the possibilities I finally recognized.

A sharp breath in me ladled that blue sea wave stirring under my heart. Hardly surprising her, my arm scooped up her legs, as I held her back in my other arm. My steps were cautious as I bore her up the stairs. Not a whisper of noise in our house now. The perfection of this moment allayed any worries. Her arms held fast about my neck and shoulders. Maggie remained still in her smile, knowing a careful tread needed to be maintained. Romantic as this was, to carry her like this on the staircase wasn't so precarious a manoeuvre, regardless of how indestructible we might be now.

As I lifted my steps upward, I grew for her below. What she desired was no concern when she introduced this idea for me. I knew her and she knew me, but in this way we might finally know each other in a more profound ecstasy if what she proposed was true.

I held her toward her room but the door was shut. She let a hand linger down and twist the knob to open her chamber. As we entered I asked if she want to be placed on her feet.

"Oh, no," she smiled, stroking me from ear to cheek, "turn around with me..."

I did and she closed the door with her hand, remaining in my arms, continuing to look into my eyes while locking this room. The key often was laid to turn where it should be: on the inside of her door.

And so it was done. Her arms wrapped around me again as I stepped toward that place, where I'd longed to have her for ages, and where she longed to be. I placed her to lie down, and I let my over laden apparel start falling away. It was when I was in my vest I could permit myself to begin removing her clothes; The slippers from her feet, the odd components keeping her hair in place as I kneeled down to kiss her. Maggie took my breath in a vacuum and as I relaxed I could feel air entering my being as she inhaled through me.

She refused to be docile, sitting up, feet dangling over her bedside to twist the buttons on my clothing. Not so feverish on this evening but determined. The sun had set long ago and as we became half clothed she led me toward the fireplace and brought me back to the ritual we'd forgotten. To take the sticks to light the candles, in all of how we were tangled from halving in disrobe. I watched as her trembling hand lit the wicks and then she gestured me to that one beside her window.

We combined our two flames to ignite that one, re-created from what her father and the ghost of my sister had produced. Even _my_ hands shook and as we lifted the smoking tinders away. She blew them both out. We stood. I could see the light from that candle in my periphery and I stared at her as we longed for each other. She took the stick from my hand and placed it side by side along the windowsill. I glanced downward and wished to lay beside her in the same way as those objects. Before that window we pulled more away to reach and expose more skin to caress.

In a side step, parting ourselves from that flame, the clothing continued to be undone, falling away with a grace I didn't expect. I was careful, as I often would be with my dearest love, to course my fingers along her skin, arms, clavicle, staring along each merest inch. I saw her do the same to me. What I knew of this life, this harmony of both marriage and promise. But she would show me again and again. Now she took my fingers in her hands, leading me to our nest. This time she wanted something new.

I turned my head to see the candle, the wisp of a thought... but one mustn't think of those things when concentrating on the sacred.

And so we bedded down together, as we had done for years, and I never took for granted. Each time we did this we renewed our vows from the altar, each kiss goodnight and awakening bespoke these pledges to our union. We'd existed too long without each other. To take it for granted would simply never do. But tonight?

Tonight was different.

* * *

Here was a readiness my father-in-law tried to explain to me in visits, as he tampered brush strokes with the colours on his palette and chortled odd interpretations to life I wasn't sure of. But I was pleased in his acceptance of me.

"Of course, old man," he expressed to me, in the love of his art, "I remember in those bygone days, just the same. We've come so long across a stretch of centuries for me to deny it. And I love you both far too much to let those things diminish. Besides... I'm alive once more, Barnabas, aren't I?"

"But I still don't understand what Sarah meant that night you brought her to say goodbye." I professed.

"No," he grinned back at me, "you don't."

* * *

From this recollection I returned to the present. I bestowed myself to her on the sheets in all nudity, nothing which we were ashamed of at this point, of course. I needed to express in my telepathic thoughts to her how I felt, now that they were a staple of our life together. To this she smiled and extended her own reflections to mine, "I've always been pleased by our joy and our love," and she slipped her arm around my underside as I slid in beside her, taking hold of her waist.

Her lips were the ambrosia I always craved and took in my mouth. Maggie let herself speak to me in this meeting. My urges grew in the obvious places, hardening... the ripened knowledge of her exposing itself to me. The purpose should have been obvious, but I'd spent too much focus on what she was to me and always had been. Josette had cared about my forgiveness and not only her forgiveness of me, but my own forgiveness towards myself. I would never know how to thank her more than I was doing this night and so many nights before. Was it her pleasure that was so important, then my own, or ours combined? When it comes to marriage; perhaps that was the highest question of all.

I smiled toward her, "What would you like most of all tonight?" I pondered, already placing my hand to her breast as I was no longer afraid to touch her anymore. Not that I stayed there, I was craving all of her enshrined parts.

Images floated into my mind, not a technique we used very frequently, the words had proven more tender than pictures. A blend of anatomy she had preferences for, parts of her being for which there were no names. Lowering myself I folded my hands over her thighs and gathered my lips along her leg, going further down and reaching her toes. She'd breathed in loving gasps but this last part made her giggle slightly. After all this time, could it be she was still ticklish? Or was it more a noise of things to come, echoes of precious sounds an infant might utter?

I questioned our ability to enact this ritual to its end result. We had to _desire_ a new being into this world to bring it forth. In all the years we'd shared there had been no "accidents", if one could call such creations thus. All must be done with combined willingness, an intention.

My torso was between her legs and I'd lain myself over her womanhood to kiss her stomach, _bless it_ as it were, course my way up to massage her ribs and down again, she took my head in her hands, weaving her fingers through my hair and caressing me behind the ears. I rested my cheek on her indrawn abdomen. _Let what I endow here give us our little one back, and in doing so, give Sarah the chance she never had; to grow and become a woman herself._ This was my prayer.

I could feel Maggie's feet, knees, legs moving to favour the skin at either side and I lay there, so low. She'd shown me absolution; sending me her own feelings as I'd sent her mine. Part of me wanted to relax there forever. But the surge was growing stronger below me. Would something so intimate between us bring back a beloved face, a name we hadn't spoken in address for however long it had been? Would she, my sister, perhaps my daughter, be the same?

"And more," my Josette breathed in answer.

My hands came down from her flesh to the bed. Bringing myself above, Margaret's feet rested on the mattress. Her invitation was moist and smooth as she allowed me entrance. Gentleness in her kiss released itself to my lips, the trickle of her fingers along my ribs and breast. I lifted myself within and a gasp opened her mouth wider in awe. Would it ever be different with us in this room we finally shared? I wondered this too often. It was the harsher days we faced together, the simple joys from all our delights in this world. The nights and events would vary, rarely being overwhelming of sorrow. Walks, novels, conversation with our family, the sharing of opinions and ideas, replacing old structures. In the end it had made our love so much richer, stronger, the proof of all we were.

And now, could it be _this_ rich? Something far beyond monetary wealth was our being in each other's arms. My love for Margaret Josette Dupres, making love _with_ her, our wedlock finally arriving: Could this return another family member to us? One who'd helped by crossing the veil, but soon might be of flesh again as we could make?

The passion increased as did my reaching to her depths, her eyes half closed and a soft smile containing this wonder with me, except she was more confident, tasting me in return with her answer. Maggie wasn't convinced _tonight_ would deliver a new joy. But she was certain a number of nights in the same concentration of it would allow bringing this to us.

No flashes of our lost Sarah entered in imagery, but the spirit and the love was enfolded around our hearts. I could feel this, holding my dearest to me, her throbs in time with mine as our chests were so close together. Motions of our unity continued to constrict and expand. Her mouth the fascinating pleasure it had always been in each life I'd relished her before. Josette had always kissed me with savour. (Although once, with a blush.)

I'd tugged at her shoulders to bring her closer after each movement away, not to thrust myself with overbearance into her, neither with subtle gentleness. My hand slid down from behind her to fondle the flesh below and around her bosom, not upon it. Then the sensation struck me, what she felt in her excitement, even as her breathing changed, moans reaching my ears. The thrill of seeing her gratified in expression, teeth parted slightly, but revealed. The sounds of her pleasure as we joined and rejoined with rapture, but to **_feel_** something I'd done to her was to conjure disbelief. _How far could we share?_ Was this a sign of achieving our intention: To conceive a child together even if we'd never done so before in all the experiences of ardour?

I continued to rock with her slowly and allowed myself to feed again on her breast as I'd learned not to fear, but the shivers came to us both. It was a way of bonding mutually, inside and out. Not a torment, nor an agony; an adoring world within us to continue to engage in, both in this act and in its memory. Tomorrow we would know this occasion again in thought while others dubiously considered our expressions.

We progressed upon one another, merging, but neither gently nor voraciously, with tenderness that showed both thrill and calm release. Our breathing gained in emotion and I could hear a familiar sound from her. Moving my hand down to her inner thigh and feeling up, closer and closer until I found that collective in between to massage it, my mouth still compelled to her chest.

My precious bride was almost released to highest elation as I brought _myself_ nearer to that as well. Compressing together, I let go and found her lips again, moving my hand to the other side of her chest and gripping firmly. More than sampling now, we engorged upon our lips, tasting one another, sharing our insides. I became so submerged I had no choice in what happened next.

Hastily, Josette pulled back with a gape and took in the air, but her voice was neither silent nor loud, simply astonished, as was mine. The zenith had been reached... and simultaneously which was a more tenuous occurrence than most might speculate. **This** did not happen frequently for us, not at all.

Was this lack of climatic culmination a disappointment? No. Allow us a winsome smile at the very idea. For true-love is a harmony, as I've discovered, that once it's found and explored such an objective becomes meaningless. The time spent, the factor of having this love, is the idyllic world her and I live in. This is why our story began with the wedding. Those who feel they've conquered an end result in marriage will find unhappiness. Cherishing the dream of an ever-lasting now is its purpose.

Maggie's hands drifted up my arms and down from my shoulders, cascading her fingers along my chest, and suggesting release. I laid on the left of the bed, but held her kiss still, moving slowly out of her below. Her hand reached to mine where I held her nurturing softness above... then our lips parted.

"I love you, Barnabas, I love you."

"And I love you, Margaret, as I've always done."

She smiled in her exhale, "I felt I had to say that first before any other words were spoken."

"Why, do you suppose?"

"Because if we succeeded tonight I wanted those words to be our resolve in all of this. I wanted love and not pleasure here, as much as it hardly needs to be spoken, I know."

I was on my left elbow, leaning over to look upon her, my hand finally shifting from her breast to her face, my thumb gliding along it's smoothness, "No, it does not need to be spoken, Josette, but to say it holds gratitude as well. We have more than a need, you and I, we have a precious devotion to adore the changes life brings but cling to past wisdoms."

"That would make sense, My Heart. Across the ages we dared to hope and to believe and be alive at last. To ask for help from all of these new friends and old relations... Barnabas... your longest journey so empty, and mine so filled with variations to overwhelm."

I clasped her right hand in mine, "That would make us similar, but not too similar that it wouldn't work as it's done so beautifully." I kissed her again, drawing away with this curious but somber question, "Do you believe you conceived, Maggie?"

* * *

She didn't answer... not until the next afternoon... seeing that the candle on her windowsill had burned itself out.

"Yes, Barnabas," she observed with a bewildered look, "I believe I did."

* * *

_All right... now if **THAT** doesn't deserve some crazy insight/reviews/commentary? I don't know **WHAT** does! ^_^_


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